


10 Things I Hate About You

by bloominsummer



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, M/M, Misunderstandings, Mixed POV
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-14
Updated: 2018-07-14
Packaged: 2019-06-10 06:52:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 21,299
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15286116
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bloominsummer/pseuds/bloominsummer
Summary: Stiles agrees to help Lydia by asking Derek out because he thought it would never work. Except... it does.





	10 Things I Hate About You

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own the characters in this fic. No copyright infringement is intended.

It’s Monday morning and Stiles hasn’t felt like he wants to die this badly since his dad caught him jerking off to Channing Tatum that one time in junior high. He’s sitting in the library with his head on the table, trying to get some extra sleep while he still can. He made sure that his first period is free when signing up for class, a technique he acquired from Lydia in sophomore year. If Mondays come around and you feel demotivated as hell, which Stiles is right now, having a free first period means you can feel better about yourself as you wouldn’t suffer as early as the rest of the cohort.

It doesn’t come as a surprise to him that he sees Lydia sauntering towards him. He’s smelled her as soon as she walked through the door. In Stiles’ defense, he’s not being a creep, it’s just hard not to notice her signature strawberry shampoo. There was a period where he was unquestionably infatuated with Lydia and everything about her, but that time has long passed. They’re good friends now and Stiles couldn’t be happier about it.

Lydia sits down gracefully next to him. “You still like Derek Hale?”

That certainly wakes him up, she didn’t even give him a good morning. He’d even take a hello, but no. He sits up straight and rubs at his eyes, considering the question. The way Lydia stares at him impatiently tells him that she already knows the answer and asking him about it is just foreplay for her actual point.

Stiles sighs. At this rate, he knows he’s going to get dragged into one of Lydia’s plans.

“I mean, I’ve always had a bit of crush on him. Why?”

She actually looks around before she gives him an answer, even though Stiles is pretty sure there’s no one in hearing distance from the two of them. Stiles can safely say that she’s acting suspiciously. There’s a restless aura around her, which is atypical to say the least because, well, she’s Lydia and nothing bothers her like this.

“Why don’t you ask him out?”

Well, that’s certainly a suggestion. Stiles would’ve taken it without a second thought if Derek wasn’t 6ft, extremely gorgeous with a perfectly sculpted jawline that shames even Michelangelo’s David and Stiles wasn’t 147 pounds of only fragile bones and witty sarcasm.

“What’s going on?”

“It’s his senior year and you have nothing to lose because he probably doesn’t know you even exist,” she points out. Geez. She definitely hits where it hurts.

“You just encouraged me to ask him out and now you’re insulting me in the next sentence,” Stiles raises his eyebrows. “Spill the tea, now.”

Lydia fidgets, then, after a beat: “There’s nothing in it for me.”

“Aha! I didn’t say there was. So, what’s in it for you?” he asks, triumphant that he’s caught her off-guard for maybe the first and last time. “Lydia.”

She stops avoiding his eyes and breathes in and out to calm herself down.

“Fine. His sister, Cora, she’s not allowed to date before he does. House rules or something silly like that.”

Stiles thinks it sounds like the plot of a romantic comedy, the cheesy kind, but restrains himself from telling her his opinion.

“Okay, and you wanna help her out? Who are we setting her up with?”

“Me, actually. I partnered with her for history and she’s amazing, Stiles,” she answers him.

A pause.

Lydia fiddles with the hem of her polka dots skirt.

“Oh.” The realisation dawns on Stiles. “Okay,” he nods as a sign of his agreement.

Her eyes go wide instantly and Stiles thinks that if this happened two years ago, he would have a heart attack and died at how truly beautiful she looks. Being in love or at least attracted to someone is definitely a good look on her.

“What?”

She stares at him as if she didn’t expect him to agree and honestly Stiles didn’t think he would, either, but he apparently did.

“Okay, I’ll put my life on the line for this noble cause.”

Lydia lets out a sound that resembles a yelp and moves in to crush Stiles in a bear hug.

* * *

 Lydia didn’t pressure him into anything and didn’t even nag about his plan after she asked for his help, but Stiles couldn’t stop thinking about it and the anticipation of asking Derek out was killing him softly.

So on Wednesday he gathers what little courage he has in his body and walks up to Derek’s table at lunch. He’d tell anyone who asks that he’s brave for doing so in front of his friends, but really it’s only because Derek happens to be alone and he’d rather humiliate himself in front of his own people than Derek’s.

“Hi, I’m Stiles,” he starts when he feels close enough for Derek to hear him.

Derek, who’s texting someone with his phone, puts it down and looks up at Stiles from his seat. Damn, his eyes are the most amazing shade of green Stiles has ever—

“I’m aware of that, Stilinski,” Derek replies in a gruff voice. Holy shit. Derek Hale knows who he is and moreover, he’s talking to him. He tries his best not to freak out over the fact, at least not in front of the person himself. He’s making an effort to impress Derek, not scare him away.

“Oh, really?” His reply sounds cockier than Stiles intended.

“Yes,” Derek nods curtly. “You’re rather loud.”

He doesn’t say it like it’s something that bothers him and Stiles’ gaze falls down to his lips. Then he snaps out of it.

“Is that a bad thing?”

“You decide.”

“I’d take that as a compliment, then. I like to be positive.”

The corners of Derek’s mouth tilt up in amusement. “Okay.”

“So—” he begins, though he doesn’t get a chance to finish his sentence because Derek raises his hand to stop him. Stiles stops.

“Before you ask, the answer’s no. No, I don’t give out my sister’s number to any guy who thinks they’re entitled to it just because they decide to be friendly to me once. Anyway, you’ll be wasting your time, Cora’s not allowed to date.”

The irony of it makes Stiles wants to laugh. Here he is trying to woo Derek so that Lydia can, in turn, swoops in to woo his sister, but instead Derek thinks Stiles is actually after said sister, which couldn’t be further from the truth. Stiles’s pretty sure Cora hate his guts and she’s even less approachable than Derek.

On that note, all the guys that have tried to use Derek to get to Cora are assholes even if Stiles doesn’t know who they are.

“Um, I’m— I’m not actually here to ask that.”

Derek leans back in his chair, his posture more relaxed than before. Stiles tries hard not to pay attention to the now uncrossed strong legs in front of him.

“Then what do you want?”

“I was gonna ask if you’d like to go grab dinner with me. Sometime. Like, whenever’s good for you. Or not. You know, no pressure.”

As if Stiles can pressure Derek into anything. Not that he’d ever want to.

“Are you asking me out on a date?” Derek doesn't look as incredulous as he sounds, but he's definitely entertained by the very much public attempt of Stiles' asking him out.

Feeling disheartened by Derek's answer, Stiles takes a step back. “I was going to, but from your condescending tone I can already tell the upcoming rejection, so… I’m just going to walk away now and pretend this,” Stiles gestures between the two of them, “never happened.”

He takes another step back, ready to bolt from the cafeteria, the school, even planet Earth itself if necessary. Derek raises both eyebrows.

“You always give up this easy?” he asks.

“What?”

“Give me your phone," he extends his right hand out toward Stiles, who for the love of God, literally stands there unable to comprehend the simple request until Derek has to clear his throat just to make sure Stiles is still on the same universe.

Stiles fumbles to retrieve said phone from his jacket pocket and hands it to Derek carefully.

“Don’t break it,” he says before he can stop himself.

“I won’t break—“ Derek chuckles, “Who do you think I am? I’m giving you my number.”

“Oh.”

“I have practice every Tuesdays and Thursdays.”

“I know.”

Derek raises his eyebrows, again. This time he’s slightly surprised. It’s getting kind of distracting. Stiles hasn't seen this many facial expressions from him in the years they've gone to school together. Well, it’s difficult to see someone’s face when you’re always at least 15 feet apart from each other, but still.

“I mean, my friend Scott’s on the team with you," he tries to explain hastily.

“Okay.”

Derek hands him back his phone and Stiles takes it, unsure of what to do next. They’re halfway through a staring contest which Stiles is pretty sure Derek’s winning before he decides it might be a little too weird for a first encounter. Well, it’s not actually their first encounter, but he doubts that Derek remembers the other time.

“I’m gonna go now,” he gestures to his table, where his friends are still too busy copying Lydia’s algebra notes to notice what he was up to the last five minutes.

“Okay.”

“I’ll text you.”

Derek makes a shoo gesture with his hands.

Stiles turns around and clutches at his chest because no way. No way he just talked to Derek Hale and not only came out alive in the end, but also somehow managed to get his phone number. Stuff like this only happens in movies, definitely not to Stiles, definitely not with Derek, and most definitely not in this universe. He walks as casually as he can manage back to his table before sitting down abruptly, his legs totally giving up under him.

He unlocks his screen and shows Derek’s contact info to Lydia. She beams brightly at him, tapping his forearm excitedly.

“Oh, I love you.”

“I know. Didn’t think it would work, did you?”

“Not really,” she tells him honestly. To be fair, neither did he. “How did you do it?”

“Asked him if he wants to go on a date.”

Lydia blinks at him, like something doesn’t add up in his explanation. “That simple?”

“Occam’s razor, right? You’re the one who told me about that.”

“Touché,” she comments, approving. 

* * *

 Stiles did text him, in the end. When he approached Derek looking as nervous and guilty as a kid who's stolen candy from the top shelf, Derek thought to prepare the usual speech. No going anywhere near Cora, we have a rule, yadda yadda yadda. But it turned out, Stiles didn't come around for Cora. Loud, stupidly brilliant Stiles with his crazy long limbs and eyelashes came over for Derek.

It was an unexpected development he didn't fully hate.

The first text read, ‘ _Hi this is Stiles. Stilinski. Just wondering if you're still okay with the date and if Friday night sounds good. Let me know._ ’ accompanied by a string of cat emojis and one thumb up at the end.

Derek has found it cute that he needed to include his last name in the text as if there are more than one Stiles running around wreaking havoc in Beacon Hills.

Long story short, that's how Derek finds himself for the first time since freshman year announcing to the rest of his family that his love life is somehow alive again while eating dinner. He prepares himself for the worst.

“I have a date on Friday night.”

“Sure thing, Derek,” his mom answers nonchalantly.

At the same time, his dad drops his fork and blurts, “Wait, what?”

Cora shrieks before he can even give out an answer, her hand already gripping his wrist tightly in excitement. “Are you serious?”

“Uh, yeah?”

His dad frowns. “What? You’re not supposed to date until college.”

He does nothing to mask his confusion and Derek can relate, too. He’s not entirely sure why he accepted the invitation in the first place since he hasn’t been interested in anyone in a long time. Stiles though, he is… interesting. He’s full of chaotic energy that he somehow managed to suppress long enough to ask Derek out.

“I don’t recall us having that rule.”

“We don’t, it’s just—“ his dad hesitates. “I was counting on it.”

Derek scoffs. That’s just typical of his old man. “Thanks, Dad.”

“I mean— now Cora can date, too.”

“Hell, yeah!” She slams her fist on the table and Derek’s mom has to hold her wine glass so it doesn’t topple over.

Cora doesn’t care about how dejected their father sounded just now because that’s exactly what she’s like. To be fair, the rule was dumb anyway. Derek had one bad experience in dating so to even out the chances, his dad had banned dating in his household altogether. Derek knew from the start that it’s an attempt to stop Cora from growing up too fast, but it’s also an attempt to normalise Derek’s inability to be in a relationship after Kate.

He appreciates his dad a lot for it and tries his best to do right by him every time, even though sometimes it’s harder than usual.

“Remember, missy, behave yourself. Maybe we should have you wear the belly for tonight.”

Derek cringes.

The infamous belly is a pregnant body suit Derek’s dad got from work—even though he’s a general surgeon and not a gynaecologist—which he uses to ward his daughters off premarital sex. It didn’t exactly work on Laura and Derek’s pretty sure it’s not working on Cora, either. Funnily enough, it’s been working on Derek so far. Oh, yeah, when Derek came out as bisexual to his parents, his dad told him to wear the suit just to drive the point home.

That was one of the times it was extremely hard for Derek not to scream his head off like the angsty teenager he ought to be.

“David, that’s too much,” his mom intervenes.

“Yeah, you tell him Mom,” Cora waves her finger around. “This whole no dating before Derek does rule is ridiculous in the first place, I mean… Laura’s as promiscuous as anyone can get.”

That’s true. Laura’s so free-spirited in every interpretation possible that their parents have given out hope of ever telling her what to do, especially since she moved out for college, then graduated and started working.

“Well, young lady, your sister doesn’t live under my roof anymore, so she, unfortunately, can do whatever she wants. Unlike you,” he points his index finger at her.

His mom shakes her head at the father-daughter banter. She focuses her attention back at Derek.

“So, what about this date?”

“What do you mean? It’s a normal date.”

“Their name?” his mom prods, sipping her wine. Derek knows an investigation when he’s about to be in one. Being a lawyer, of course, Talia Hale is more than accustomed to asking questions people do not want to give answers to.

He debates whether or not to lie, but doesn’t see the point. “Stiles.”

“Stilinski?! Dude!”

His sister is beaming at him. Proudly. Like Derek had just done a good job or something. She’s right to be excited since Derek’s date means that she will also be getting an extended degree of freedom, but it doesn’t entirely explain the approving look on her face.

“Do you know this Stiles kid?” his dad pipes in, addressing Cora. Derek rolls his eyes.

“Yeah,” she mumbles with her mouth full. “He’s in my grade and I’d say he’s pretty attractive. Like, the nerdy hip attractive but, still. Derek could do much worse.”

So Cora finds Stiles attractive? He didn’t know Cora had any opinions about Stiles whatsoever.

“Is he nice?” It’s his mom’s turn again, now.

“Oh, yes. Smart, too. Math Olympiad.”

“And where are you guys going?”

For a moment, there’s silence. Derek’s still processing the new information he’s just found out about Stiles that he doesn’t realise the last question is intended for him.

Cora nudges him with her elbow. “Hey, you’re supposed to answer this one.”

He snaps out of his reverie.

“I don’t know. Pizza? Maybe.”

“Will you be using the car? I think we have the gallery opening on that night though, don’t we?” his mom looks over to his dad, then to the calendar hanging on the wall on the far side of the dining room.

Derek shakes his head. “No, that’s alright. Stiles is picking me up.”

“I see. You know your curfew, right?”

“10 o’clock,” he answers, monotonously.

Cora gasps and glares at him, offended by his answer.

“Dude, Friday nights are 11:30. Don’t give them any ideas.”

His dad laughs and reaches across the table to ruffle Cora’s hair while his mom smiles knowingly at him. Derek looks down at his plate to avoid meeting her eyes. 

* * *

Their first date went surprisingly well. Stiles is apparently a good driver and he keeps his Jeep cleaner than Derek thought he would. He didn’t even see one trace of fries container or plastic wraps. Derek told him that he’d half-expected to get picked up in a patrol car and Stiles got so surprised that Derek was capable of joking that he let out the most unattractive snort Derek’s ever heard. It got them in a much more comfortable atmosphere.

Stiles brought him to La Porchetta and they shared a pizza, curly fries, and an extra garlic bread serving. He insisted on paying and Derek relented after making him promise to allow him to get the next one, Stiles dropping his wallet in surprise when he finally picked up the hint. Derek laughed and Stiles blushed in return, giving him the most radiant smile Derek has ever seen. His heart might or might not have skipped a beat then.

They drove around the city for awhile with their window down then parked at the outlook near Derek’s place and listened to the radio while talking. The clock turns 11 without either of them realising, so Stiles drove them back and believed it or not, opened Derek’s door for him when they arrived at his house.

Derek invited him in, obviously.

“Where are your parents?”

“They have like, a date night or something like that.”

Stiles whistles.

Derek opens the fridge and grabs two bottles of Sprite. “I know, it’s disgusting how they’re still lovebirds after 25 years of marriage,” he hands one of the bottles to Stiles. “Do you want to stay down here or do you want to come upstairs?”

“Whatever you’re okay with, I am.”

“I’d rather not have to deal with Cora, so, upstairs?”

He doesn’t know whether his sister is home or not, it’s Friday night after all and she always cuts close to curfew, but he thinks it’s better not to risk it.

“Cool.”

Derek nods and starts making his way up the stairs. He’s almost at the top when he realises that Stiles has paused to look at the family photos hanging on the wall.

“You look cute in these pictures,” he comments, still not taking his eyes off them.

“Shit,” Derek slaps a hand on his face. “I forgot about those.”

Great, now Stiles has an image of Derek’s bunny teeth and chubby cheeks. If he thought Derek was cool before, that opinion has certainly been overridden.

“C’mon,” he says, embarrassed.

Stiles catches up to him and Derek can feel the tip of his ears turning red.

“I swear I wouldn’t say anything to anyone. Nada.”

He nods and takes Stiles’ hand in his to make sure he won’t make other stops on the way to his room. If Stiles’s embarrassed by the gesture, it would only mean that they’re even, anyway.

“Well, welcome to my humble crib,” he says as he opens the door to his room.

Derek is not by any means a messy person, but somehow the room feels far more cluttered than when he left it before his date. He’s starting to get self-conscious about the state of it that he can’t help but clean up a few things. Stiles doesn’t seem to mind, though, instead he observes a particular heap of papers on top of Derek’s desk.

“Did you draw these?” Stiles asks, picking one of them up carefully like it’s art and not something Derek dribbles when he’s bored.

“I sketch in my free time.”

“This is amazing,” he holds up the drawing of the tree outside Derek’s window. “These are _amazing_. You should send these in for the school’s art showing.”

Derek shrugs. He’s aware of the annual event, but he never once thought of sending any of his works in. He has always seen drawing and painting as a hobby and nothing serious.

“Don’t need the exposure.”

“I’ve never heard an artist say that,” Stiles replies, still going through the rest of the sketches with an awestruck expression on his face. “You know, UCLA has a pretty good fine arts program.”

“Oh, I’m set on going to Berkeley, taking pre-law. Following my mother’s footsteps and all.”

There are only four people besides his family members who know about it and Stiles is one of them. The knowledge leaves a funny feeling in Derek’s stomach.

“Is that what you want to do?”

Stiles sets the papers neatly before walking to the other side of the room, leaning against the window and facing Derek.

“I think that’s what my parents are willing to pay for. Berkeley’s got a better chance of offering me a sports scholarship anyway.”

“God,” Stiles groans. “I can already imagine you playing different sports each season and somehow manage to find a way to juggle with your academic responsibilities, social life and at least three part-time jobs at the same time.”

Someone is certainly putting Derek on a high pedestal.

They talk a little more about the posters Derek has in his room, from which he finds out that Stiles is an avid Panic! at the Disco fan. He shouldn’t be surprised. Stiles also takes interest in his comic collection, or in his exact words, ’Finally! Someone who appreciates X-Men.’

It feels nice having a conversation with him and Derek’s almost regretful when Stiles tells him he needs to go before his dad comes back from his night shift. He walks Stiles to his car with all of the intentions of kissing him goodbye as a thank you for the wonderful night, but they bump into Cora on their way out and suddenly kissing is out of the question.

Cora waits with him until Stiles drives away in his Jeep and Derek thinks she feels a little guilty for her not so impeccable timing because she doesn’t ask him annoying questions about his date, instead she just tells him goodnight and goes to her room peacefully. 

* * *

While they’re eating lunch, Scott’s eyes suddenly go wide. Stiles is about to perform the Heimlich maneuver on him since he initially thinks his best friend is choking on fries before realising he’s simply looking at something behind him. Scott swallows his food in record time and grabs Stiles’ hand across the table.

“Why is Derek walking toward our table? Don’t turn around.”

“Does he look pissed?”

Stiles hasn’t had the courage to text Derek simply because he doesn’t know what to say. ‘Thank you’ would have been weird since he paid for the date and he can’t tell if it actually went well enough for him to ask for a second one. Derek might have insinuated the possibility, but that doesn’t mean Stiles should take his words at face value.

“Weirdly, no,” he whispers. “I’ve seen him glare much worse at me during practice.”

“Okay. Play it cool.”

Derek is finally behind him, hands on the back of Stiles’ chair, leaning forward. “What’s up, Scott?”

“Nothing much, just having lunch.”

“Can I borrow Stiles for a sec?” he points his finger downward, at Stiles, who’s trying to look at Derek without hurting his neck.

Scott glances at Stiles, looking for confirmation. There’s confusion in his puppy dog eyes and Stiles promises himself to comfort him later over a Halo session. He nods to Scott quickly.

“Yeah, sure thing.”

Stiles stands up from his seat and follows Derek outside the cafeteria, into the hallway. Derek leans sideways against the wall and damn, he looks good. In flannel, Stiles notices. It should be illegal for anyone to look good in flannel, but the world is a cruel and unfair place.

Derek clears his throat. “So, I owe you dinner.”

“What?” Stiles tries to snap himself out of it. He must have heard wrong.

“As I said, I owe you dinner.”

“Really? I thought you were just being nice.”

Shit. Stiles and his unguarded mouth.

“I think last week went pretty well, so… isn’t a second date just natural progression?” Derek prods.

Stiles observes Derek’s posture, his hands in his pockets, shoulders slumped slightly inward and eyes seemingly fixed to the ground. For someone who looks like they can have anyone they wanted just by making brief eye contact, Derek sure’s out of his comfort zone when it comes to asking someone out.

“Right. Of course, yes, I’d love that.”

He perks up immediately at Stiles’ reply. It’s adorable.

“I have a game this Friday, but maybe afterward we can go grab some milkshake or something?”

Stiles loves that idea. “Milkshake. Yes.”

“Okay.”

“Yeah.”

Derek leans away from the wall and fixes his backpack’s position over his shoulders. “Text me, okay? Since you haven’t.”

“I’m— Yes. I’ll text you,” Stiles can’t believe this is actually happening to him right now. Derek Hale did not just ask Stiles to send him a text. Because apparently he _hasn’t_. “I’ll text you right now.”

He pulls out his phone from his pocket, ready to make good on his words.

“You can wait until I’m out of sight, at least,” Derek chuckles. “See you later.”

* * *

When Stiles told Scott that he couldn’t drive him back from the game like he usually does because he has a date with Derek, he got a congratulation and a bunch of condoms shoved into his hands. Scott grinned, told him not to worry and that he’d catch a ride with Allison. Stiles threw the condoms back at him. He’d be needing it more than Stiles would if he’s going home with Allison.

He goes to Scott’s games religiously because that’s what bros do for each other, so he picks up a few things here and there about lacrosse. It doesn’t hurt to see Derek running around the field completely establishing his dominance over the other players, either. Stiles counts it as a bonus.

They lost the game by a one-goal margin, though no one is too beaten up over it. After all, It was a friendly match with no championship at stake.

Derek drove them to Misty’s, a rather popular diner not too far from their school. Stiles questioned his choice of venue mentally since it is likely that a lot of people from school will be there too, consoling themselves with food after the defeat. Derek didn’t seem to care if he were to be spotted together with Stiles.

“Do you always eat like it’s the last five minutes of your life?” Derek wonders aloud.

Stiles stops mid-chew. They haven’t seen anyone they know so far, but Stiles wants to minimise that chance. “It could be.”

“But it isn’t. Slow down a little. It’s like you’re trying to get away from me as soon as you can,” Derek frowns. “Are you?”

“Oh, sorry. No, of course not. I just…” he thinks of a good reason to give Derek, “really love fries.”

That was pathetic, even for him. He waves around the piece he’s currently holding for effect while silently hoping that Derek will buy his explanation.

“I can tell.”

Seems like he does.

“It was a good game,” Stiles says with practice indifference in order to steer the conversation away from the previous topic.

Derek does a double-take at his comment. “We lost.”

Stiles laughs because he says it like he’s unsure whether Stiles is aware of that fact and is trying to inform him in the nicest way possible.

“Yes, even I can follow that much. You’re just getting used to who’s good at defense and offense, getting the feel of this year’s team, though, right? I mean, you let all the freshmen play.”

“You noticed?”

Stiles puts aside his plate since he’s finished and reaches for his milkshake. “I’ve been to enough of these games the past couple years, so, yeah.”

“Why didn’t you try out for the team?” Derek asks, reaching for his own glass. Stiles can’t help but wonder if the theory about mirroring the actions of someone you’re interested in is true.

“I did, actually. Mostly for Scott, since that was the period when we practically did everything together. It just wasn’t me, I guess, I’m too much off a spaz and my hand-eye coordination is awful.”

Derek considers his words and then he throws his balled up straw wrapper at Stiles. It hits him right on the nose. Stiles blinks a couple times in surprise, not entirely sure what had just happened.

“Huh,” he remarks.

Stiles is dumbfounded, to say the least. He didn’t expect Derek to have a childish side to him, though it’s refreshing to see it come out.

“Very funny.”

“Just testing out what you said,” Derek shrugs. “You could’ve made manager.”

“I think that girl Erica’s doing a much better job than I ever could.”

Derek scoffs in a way that tells Stiles he’s actually really fond of Erica but would rather die than admit it. “Not really. Most of the time she’s just there to ogle her boyfriend.”

Stiles noticed this, too. It’s pretty difficult not to. They act lovey-dovey every chance they get during practice and at games, and although the guy she’s with always has a consistent bored look on his face, he always watches Erica like she hung the moon.

“Tall, dark-skinned, intense dude?”

He understands why Erica would want to climb that tree on a daily basis. Dude’s hot. Mysterious, too.

Derek nods. “His name’s Boyd.”

“I think I’d be doing the same thing if I were in her shoes.”

“Ogling Boyd?”

“Ogling the team captain,” he confirms.

Derek makes a disgusted face. Stiles worries that he’s crossed some sort of invisible line, or that this invitation for dinner is nothing more than a friendly gesture on Derek’s part. Maybe only wanted to get even for last time. But then why would he call it a second date if that was the case. Stiles thinks he’s going to have a hard time breathing if Derek doesn’t say something soon.

“Ew, Jackson?” is what comes out of his mouth.

Stiles almost chokes at the relief flooding his brain. “The other team captain.”

“Is that why you asked me out? You think I’m attractive?” Derek crosses his arms, waiting for Stiles’ answer.

If he tells Derek it’s all an elaborate plan to get both him and Lydia what they want at the same time, he’s probably going to think Stiles is lying, or worse, crazy. Still, he doesn’t want to lie to Derek.

“I don’t _think_ you’re attractive, it’s more like common sense. Well, that’s part of it, but not all of it, you know. I just thought before you graduate and probably disappear from my world for good, I’d shoot my shot. I honestly didn’t think it would work, but hey, we’re on our second date!”

None of that was too far from the truth. Stiles feels a little proud that he could keep it together and not blow his chance before he’s even sure he has one. Derek opens his mouth as if he’s about to argue with Stiles, but closes it just as fast.

He continues drinking his milkshake while glancing at Stiles occasionally. 

* * *

Like an idiot, Derek catches a cold out of nowhere. His mom had let him stay at home without asking questions since he’s feverish and is not the type to skip classes as part of his adolescence rebellious phase. He was expecting to finally catch up on the last season of Game of Thrones, since he’s already been spoiled about the fate of the dragon by the internet trolls on the day the episode aired. What he wasn’t expecting was that Stiles would be standing on his front porch at a quarter after two.

Sure, they have been texting back and forth non-stop since their last date, but Derek’s sure they haven’t crossed the line of being boyfriends just yet. He wonders if Stiles’ purpose in life is simply to throw him off balance because he’s continued to do so since he came over to him and asked for his number.

He saw Stiles’ Jeep pulls into his driveway and rushed over to the door.

“Hey,” Stiles says lightly when Derek opens the door for him, as if he didn’t just show up uninvited to his house in the middle of the day, clearly ditching school.

Derek feels self-conscious all of the sudden. He realises that he’s only wearing his boxers and a thin T-shirt, which he had deemed acceptable for a day of staying in and doing nothing but sweating his illness out. Stiles, who must have been raised to be a total gentleman, only looks at Derek from the neck up, yet it doesn’t help him at all.

“What are you doing here?”

Stiles raises his eyebrows. “That’s such a warm welcome, thank you!”

“Stop being so sarcastic.”

He doesn’t have the energy to entertain Stiles. Not today.

“Stop being so rude,” Stiles retorts. “Cora told me you weren’t feeling well.”

It makes him even more uncomfortable to know that Cora and Stiles are getting along to the point that his sister thinks it’s okay to share personal information about Derek with him. He makes a mental note to have a serious talk with her when she gets home.

“I could have told you that if you asked me,” he protests.

“You weren’t replying to my texts.”

Derek hates to admit it, but Stiles has a point. His phone is dead somewhere on the couch because it ran out of battery and Derek didn’t feel like going up the stairs to grab his charger. He doesn’t think he can make it halfway through with how he’s feeling anyway.

Stiles holds up a plastic bag with containers inside. “I brought you mushroom soup.”

 _That_ catches Derek’s attention. Truth be told, he’s ravenous.

“Mushroom?”

Stiles rolls his eyes as if he’s anticipated Derek’s fussiness. “No chicken stock in my house,” he explains. “My dad’s been missing a lot of grocery run schedules lately, he’s got a homicide case going on.”

“Are you skipping school just to deliver mushroom soup to my house?”

“I thought you’d like the soup plus some company.”

Derek actually would like that. He’s not going to let Stiles know, though. He might be sick, but he can still make sound judgments when it comes to this.

“No, I don’t. Now can you go?”

He regrets not adding please anywhere in his sentence because now he’s not being defensive, he’s just being a dick.

“What is your problem?” Stiles asks, irritated. Rightly so, Derek supposes. It’s unfair that he only wants to help Derek out and Derek’s acting like a total asshole. He can’t help it, considering what the alternative is.

“I don’t want you to miss school because it’s more important than taking care of me.”

“My GPA’s steady at 4.0, I can afford to miss half a day,” he replies stubbornly. “There’s something you’re not telling me and I’m not leaving before you do.”

Stiles raises his chin in defiance.

“I don’t need you around me in my full-glory state,” Derek finally snaps.

He closes his eyes and when he opens them again, Stiles’ expression has gone from displeased to fond.

“So that’s what this is about? You think I don’t find your runny nose and flushed cheeks adorable,” Stiles says, mostly to himself. “Contrary to popular beliefs, your looks are actually not the only thing about you, you know?”

Derek feels the heat rising to his cheeks and he doesn’t know if it’s the fever or Stiles.

“Your personality is a big turn on, too,” Stiles says again.

“Shut up.”

“Let me fix you a bowl of soup,” he says, pushing past Derek and into the house. “Come on.”

Derek obliges, there’s no point of sending Stiles away now that he saw through it all. Stiles quickly navigates himself to the kitchen and does exactly what he came here to do— take care of Derek. He realises halfway through his second helping of the soup that he’s being pampered by Stiles.

Stiles has to ask a lot of questions about where the utensils are and then after, if he has any ice pack or if a wet towel would do just fine for his forehead, since they need to get his fever down if Derek wants to get better soon. He helps Derek get back to the couch after he’s finished eating and retrieves the ice pack from the fridge.

After Derek’s all settled in, Stiles sits cross-legged on the floor right next to him.

“Do you want Ibuprofen?” he offers.

Derek shakes his head, closing his eyes. He feels sleepy already. The mushroom soup was awesome.

“You still look gorgeous, by the way,” Stiles says out of the blue. “I really want to kiss you right now. Obviously, only if you’re okay with that, consent matters and—”

Derek cuts him off. “You’ll get sick.”

He doesn’t know what took over him, but he thinks that’s the only reason he didn’t immediately kiss Stiles the moment he pushed the bowl of soup across the counter over to him. It would be unfortunate his Stiles catches his cold since it’s a rather nasty one.

“Is that a yes?”

Stiles sounds… hopeful?

Derek opens his eyes, the corners of his mouth his curving up into a small smile.

“Get over yourself,” Derek says, but he grabs Stiles’ shirt and smashes their mouth together anyway.

The ice pack falls between them.

Derek is aware that his lips are hot on Stiles’ and so are his hands on Stiles’ cheeks, not to mention there’s a high probability that Stiles will run a fever tomorrow, but it’s as perfect as a first kiss can get and neither of them wants to change a thing.

Derek makes a mental note to go easy on Cora later. 

* * *

After he was pronounced healthy by Dr. Deaton and was allowed to go back to school, Derek made a beeline straight for Stiles’ table during lunch and made himself at home from that point forward. As if that wasn’t enough to send Stiles over the moon, occasionally Derek’s hand would rest across the back of Stiles’ chair, his fingers casually touching Stiles’ upper arm. It didn’t take long for the rest of his flocks to follow, starting with Erica who dug her nails into Stiles’ forearm and told him not to fuck up the good thing he’s got going with Derek and Boyd who only stood behind her idly while she practically assaulted Stiles but gave him a small, knowing smile in the end. Isaac was much easier to handle, he just came, sat down and introduced himself like any normal person would. Thank God for small victories.

Cora joined their table by Friday and Stiles grinned at how bashful Lydia looked just by being around her.

He reached for Derek’s hand under the table and squeezed. Derek blushed, looking the most adorable Stiles had ever seen him, and squeezed back.

It’s been three weeks since then and they have gone to hang out almost religiously every Friday. Sometimes they hang out with Scott and the rest of Stiles’ gang who have unanimously agreed to adopt Derek into their pack since the first time he came to have lunch with them. Derek doesn’t exactly look like a people person, but he’s genuine and funny even when he doesn’t intend to be.

There was a small incident when Scott almost outed him. As in, he almost told Derek that Stiles’ crush actually went way back to their freshman year and it has been a miracle that Stiles can now talk normally with him instead of stuttering whenever Derek’s name is mentioned. Luckily, Lydia stepped in, literally, she stepped on Scott’s foot so hard he was in so much pain he couldn’t finish the story. Stiles apologised on her behalf by putting ice on it for Scott and quietly asked him not to embarrass Stiles in front of Derek again.

Scott had smiled knowingly in reply and that was slightly more bothersome to Stiles than him trying to tell Derek about the past.

Stiles hasn’t made as much progress with Derek’s friends except Isaac, but Erica actually laughed at his joke last week and that definitely counts as a win. Cora seems cool with him, too. Laura, who he has since learned is Derek’s older sister, even added him on Facebook, which means he’s at the very least managed to be a topic of conversation between the Hale siblings. Derek advised him to reject the friendship request but Stiles decided not to listen to him.

Speaking of which, he should listen to Derek more. He should listen when Derek tells him what time he’ll arrive at Kira’s party so he doesn’t have to keep wondering when he’ll see him. Stiles could theoretically text him, but what if he’s on his way and the notification of his text would just distract him from driving? Stiles wouldn’t want that.

Just as he gets up to walk outside and wait for Derek by the porch, he bumps into the real thing.

“Hey,” Derek offers him an easy smile.

“Hi. You’re here.”

“Yeah,” he says, looking around the room, slightly distracted. He rests a hand on Stiles’ shoulder. “I need to do something really quick, then I’ll come find you. Is that okay?”

“Sure. Are you looking for someone?”

“My sister,” Derek bends down to make up for the height difference between the two of them so that Stiles can hear him. The music is playing rather loud, but Stiles will take any opportunity to be closer to Derek. “Have you seen her?”

“She’s at the back, I think. Playing beer pong, or maybe it’s fear pong. I’m not sure. Is everything alright?”

Stiles only saw flashes of long dark and the particular shade of strawberry blonde locks making their way towards the back when he arrives, but he’s seen Danny running around the place with ping-pong balls in his hands. He can put two and two together.

“She was supposed to come here with me but apparently she had someone pick her up. We all know it means to have a guy pick you up to go to a party. She can date now, it’s this thing with my family that she can only date after I do, which, obviously, I already am dating someone. I just want to check this guy out, make sure he’s decent,” Derek explains.

Ah. Stiles feels lightheaded. Maybe it’s the fact that Derek just explicitly acknowledge that they’re dating. Him and Stiles.

“Oh,” he snaps out of it. “Uhm.”

Derek looks confused. “What?”

“I can help you with that,” Stiles says, treading carefully. It’s a sensitive subject to his—Stiles supposes he can say the b-word now—boyfriend. Derek and Cora fight constantly but no one doubts their devotion to having each other’s backs.

“You know the guy?”

“Kind of. You know Lydia?”

“Of course,” Derek nods.

“Yeah.”

“What?” Stiles waits for him to catch his meaning. “Oh.”

“Surprised?”

Derek slumps against him, trapping Stiles between his body and the wall behind him. Stiles can feel him shaking and he would have been worried if it’s not for the fact that they’re so close to each other, he can hear Derek laughing softly to himself.

“A little,” he admits, “but it’s not exactly shocking that my sister would only go for someone who’s at least as feisty as her.”

Stiles loops his arms around Derek’s middle, pulling him closer. Derek straightens his back so their bodies are aligned, his hands resting on Stiles’ waist.

“She scares me, you know.”

“Which one?” Derek smirks, pushing Stiles hair back from his forehead.

“Both.”

Derek’s expression turns serious. “I’ll protect you from them,” he tells Stiles, looking right into his eyes.

Stiles believes him.

“Ah, my prince charming!” he swoons.

“Okay, you want a drink?”

That just took an entirely different turn than Stiles predicted.

“I thought you wanted to check on Cora first,” he reminds him. He doesn’t want Derek to worry about his sister for the rest of the party, that won’t be fun for either of them.

Derek shrugs. “Well, Lydia’s your friend.”

“She is…” Stiles trails off. That fact has been established for the longest time, so he doesn’t know where Derek’s going with this.

Derek plays with Stiles’ sleeves. “I trust you, you seem to trust her, and Cora can handle herself, so problem solved.”

Derek says it like he’s rapping, as if he hopes Stiles won’t hear him saying something incredibly vulnerable and cute at the same time.

Stiles stands on his toes to kiss him. “I want a coke, please.”

“Yes, my princess.”

Derek smiles, teeth and all. Stiles’ heart skips a beat. 

* * *

 

Stiles helping Isaac revise the functions peroxisomes and lysosomes for their next Biology quiz when Jackson appears out of nowhere and backs him into the lockers with a sneer on his face.

“So, how does it feel like being the token boyfriend?”

“Excuse me?” Stiles replies.

Isaac steps in between the two of them and puts a hand on Jackson’s chest, pushing him away from Stiles. “Shut the fuck up, Jackson.”

Jackson slaps his hand away and Stiles, afraid of the confrontation going further than it already has, pulls Isaac back by the elbow. Isaac relents.

“We were just talking about you,” he motions to his friends standing behind him. They’re all seniors, just like Jackson, and Stiles doesn’t really know their names besides Matt who plays lacrosse with Scott. The uniform sweatshirts give a clue that they’re sports players of some kind.

“I’m not sure I follow.”

Jackson offers him a half-crooked smile that makes Stiles’ stomach churn. It’s not a good look on anyone, but Jackson wears it so professionally and Stiles knows he’s about to get hit really bad.

“You see, Derek’s just made captain because Coach Finstock wanted to be exclusive to you all proclaimed queer kids out there. I bet he’s actually straight, since we know how it all went down with Kate.”

It’s like Stiles can hear static electricity crackles in the air with Isaac fuming beside him. There’s smoke coming out of his ears, his face turning beet red. Stiles tightens his hold on Isaac’s elbow because either of them blowing up is exactly what Jackson wanted when he approached them. Stiles won’t allow him to have the satisfaction.

He likes Isaac a lot before, but now, nothing bonds two people more than a bully and standing in the same boat.

“Are you going anywhere with this?” he says tiredly.

Jackson leans back and crosses his arms. Stiles makes the mistake of looking at Matt because now he wants to wipe the smug look off of his face.

“I’m just saying now he has to actually have a boyfriend to keep his gay card in play. He’s using you to keep his title.”

Boys and their fragile ego, Stiles thinks. Isn’t there supposed to be some sort of code amongst sportsmen? Camaraderie? Jackson Whittemore literally has it all: money, looks, athleticism, yet he still needs to compensate for something else by talking shit about other people who happen to share the podium with him.

“What about yourself? I heard you cried for an extensive amount of time that it annoyed the coach into making you a co-captain.”

The grin is gone, replaced by anger. Shock, too. He must have thought Stiles wouldn’t dare talk back to him.

“Watch your mouth,” he warns, moving closer.

“How about you watch yours? At least I don’t tell lies,” Stiles sidesteps and walks away without looking back.

Isaac catches up to him after a moment. There’s a proud look on his face when he claps Stiles on the back, twice. Stiles thinks it’s unfair that he’s winning Isaac’s approval like this because Jackson’s an asshole, but he’ll take what he can get for now.

“He was gaping like an idiot.”

“You shouldn’t provoke him,” Stiles advises him. “He can bench you for the upcoming games.”

Like it or not, Jackson is still the co-captain for the rest of the year and Stiles has listened to Scott enough to know how the hierarchy works in the team.

“Derek won’t let him do that,” Isaac shrugs. “By the way, you’re brave.”

“Don’t sound so surprised,” he retorts, faux offended.

Isaac laughs. 

* * *

 Stiles already has a feeling since right after the incident that Derek would somehow found out about it and his intuition is proven to be correct when Derek manages to find his hiding place on the chemistry books section of the library.

“Hey,” he says quietly, dropping his gym bag from his shoulder before sitting down next to Stiles on the floor.

Stiles smiles at him. “Hi.”

Now, the thing about Derek is he decidedly refuse to believe in small talk or beating around the bush. He just directly says what he wants and gets his points across with as few words as possible. It’s adorable and annoying at the same time. Mostly adorable, though Stiles doesn’t tell him that.

Derek leans in toward Stiles like he’s about to tell his a secret.

“Ms. Hayes said you got into a rather heated argument with Jackson over me.”

Huh. He didn’t even see Ms. Hayes around. He thought for sure it would have been Isaac who reported back to Derek like any good friend would.

“That’s not true,” Stiles shakes his head, leaning away from him.

Derek searches his face for a moment, then sighs.

“Which part?”

_Busted._

“It wasn’t heated.”

Derek doesn’t seem convinced, but he doesn’t seem angry, either. “Really?”

“Don’t worry about it, it’s nothing,” Stiles insists, returning his attention back to the notebook in his lap.

“You know I don’t need you to defend me, right?”

“I do,” Stiles answers quietly. He does, but he can’t help it if he wants to defend Derek, protect him, take him far away from anything that can remotely hurt him or his feelings. Stiles feels conflicted, unsure whether the confrontation bothers him or something Jackson said in particular.

Derek leans in again, this time not to talk into Stiles’ ear, but to plant a soft kiss on Stiles’ mouth, much to his surprise. He lets himself melt into the kiss.

“What was that for?” he asks Derek when they part, the ghost of Derek’s lips still lingering on his own.

Derek intertwines their fingers together and brings Stiles’ hand to his mouth, kissing it. “For standing up for me. Ms. Hayes told me what he said when I asked whether you were going to get in trouble for it.”

Stiles doesn’t deserve this much appreciation. He was just doing what anyone else would have.

“I just know that whatever you’ve achieved, you worked hard for it and you didn’t have anything handed to you.”

Derek goes still. Stiles can’t tell what he’s thinking when he’s quiet, but the moment passes quickly.

“Did you want to punch his lights out?”

Stiles scoffs. The answer is a hard yes. “Yeah, but to my highest credit, I didn’t.”

“If you did we would be having an entirely different conversation right now.”

“I know,” he huffs, leaning his head on Derek’s shoulder and closing his eyes.

Derek pats his head like he’s a five-year-old kid. Stiles realises that he’s been acting sulkily and he also knows exactly why. It doesn’t seem the right time to bring it up, so he doesn’t. He just lets out a sound of protest when Derek stops patting his head and snuggles closer to his boyfriend.

* * *

Derek’s picking him up to go to a study group at Lydia’s, which makes absolutely no sense because Derek’s a senior and he won’t benefit from the meeting whatsoever, but he had insisted on coming. Lydia didn’t exactly help dissuade him when she announced that she’s all caught up with senior year materials and would be willing to give Derek a hand if he needed it.

Stiles just thinks it means Derek wants to spend more time with him.

He hears Derek’s car and then the doorbell right after he steps out of the shower and he starts to panic. He really shouldn’t, because he’s anticipated this possibility. He’s talked to his dad so that he wouldn’t pull the ‘if you hurt my son I know how to hide your body’ card and he knows Derek can charm off a king cobra so there’s no need to worry about that part of the equation. He puts on his clothes as fast as he can, tripping and nearly blinding himself on the edge of his drawer, grabs his bag and runs downstairs.

“Derek! Sorry. You’re early.”

Derek looks away from Stiles’ father, who’s throwing his head back and clapping Derek on the back. They’re still standing in the doorway, but already more familiar than Stiles ever thought they would be. Now why did he rush downstairs for? Derek doesn’t seem like he needs rescuing after all.

“Slow down, I don’t need you falling off the stairs.”

“Dad, did you play nice?” Stiles hops down the last couple steps.

“I always do.”

He turns to Derek to confirm. “Did he?”

“He didn’t pull his badge or gun on me, so, I think it went pretty well,” Derek says and the Sheriff actually laughs at that. Stiles wonders if it’s going to be a thing, his dad enjoying Derek’s dry humour.

“Good, because remember what I said?”

“You ‘want to keep this one around’.” Stiles wishes his dad would have just said yes instead of quoting him because now Derek knows what Stiles has been saying about him when he’s not around.

He tries to keep it cool so he’ll still at least have some shred of dignity left in front of Derek.

“Yes, exactly. So what do we do?”

“Not intimidate him in any way,” his dad says flatly.

Stiles nods, satisfied. “That’s correct, thank you. You can have the lasagna with two bottles of beer for dinner. No more than two.”

“I get it,” he waves him away. “You boys have fun and be careful.”

“We will, Mr. Stilinski,” Derek says, proper and polite. “Don’t worry.”

Stiles grabs his hand and leads them to their escape. Well, his escape, but Derek doesn’t need to know that. Derek just lets himself be dragged around by Stiles.

“I hope he didn’t scare you off,” Stiles says after they’ve been driving for awhile. Derek hasn’t spoken much, which is not entirely out of character, but there’s tension in the way he’s holding himself and Stiles hates to think that it’s something his dad said or he did.

Derek hums. “Has he scared off others before?”

It’s an innocent question, surely. Stiles doesn’t think much of it before offering Derek the truth.

“There’s really only one other person I’ve brought around. She’s all fangs so she didn’t back off easily,” he laughs at the memory.

A pause. “Do I know her?”

“Maybe. She’s in my year, her name’s Malia. She moved to New York last year, though.”

Malia didn’t even understand the threat when it was presented to her face. Noah Stilinski had shown her his gun to make sure she’d treat his son right, but didn’t account for the fact that Malia, like her own father, was a gun enthusiast and noticed immediately that it was only a prop gun. The two of them had gotten along pretty well after that.

Stiles wonders how she’s doing right now. Maybe he should text her, see what she’s been up to.

“Oh,” Derek says after yet another pause.

Stiles has learned many of Derek’s ‘oh’s over the time. He learned to pick up on the annoyed oh, the excited oh, the surprised oh. This one just now, he hasn’t heard before.

“What?”

“Nothing,” Derek replies quickly, eyes straight ahead watching the road. “She’s pretty.”

“I mean, yeah.” Malia was long lashes, auburn hair, and mirthful waves of laughter. She wasn’t beautiful in the conventional definition, but the unrestrained way she carries herself was incredibly attractive to Stiles. It’s different compared to Derek’s more subdued, reserved personality, which somehow is also incredibly attractive to Stiles. “Wait a minute,” he realises suddenly.

That was a jealous oh. That also explains Derek’s increased level of quietness and his subtle questioning.

Derek clears his throat. “I’m not.” It’s like he can read Stiles’ mind.

“I didn’t say you were.”

“But you were thinking it,” he retorts, brooding.

Derek’s actually jealous. Over Stiles. The thought makes Stiles giddier than he’d like to admit.

“You’re pretty, too. I could write poems about your jawline alone.”

Which is true. Derek’s jawline is a gift from the gods. If Derek asks him to, Stiles won’t hesitate to write a long-ass poem for him. It can even be a 2000-word essay. Whatever Derek wants, really.

“Okay,” Derek says, but it’s obvious that he’s unsatisfied by the answer.

Stiles sighs and tries again, “You’re _prettier_.”

It seems like that’s exactly what Derek wanted to hear because he steals a glance at Stiles, blushes, then fixates his eyes on the road once again.

“I get it. Thanks.”

Stiles reaches over and massages his shoulder lightly in an attempt to get him to relax. It works after a while, Derek’s tension slowly dissipating under his hand.

He makes a note to himself about massages for future use whenever Derek’s upset. 

* * *

They’re taking a break from studying since Isaac’s ready to pull all his hair out and Allison’s whining for food. The rest of the group went to the kitchen to have some pizza while Scott and Stiles stay in the living room, Stiles helping his best friend with the latest Calculus problem they were just doing before Lydia announced the break.

Stiles can see his friends from where he’s sitting, Derek dipping tortilla chips in one of Lydia’s homemade dips and nodding in approval.

He nudges Scott’s leg with his own under the table to get his attention.

“Aren’t you going to give me the talk or whatever?”

Scott looks up from his workbook and stares at him blankly. “About what?”

“About Derek.”

Still blank.

“I don’t understand. What about Derek?”

“Like, I should be careful not to let him break my heart or don’t fall too deep since he’s going away for college soon,” Stiles says in a hushed voice so the rest of the gang won’t hear him.

Scott looks at him and twists his body toward the kitchen, looking at Derek, who’s laughing over something Allison said to him. He turns back to Stiles with a grin.

“Too late,” Scott comments.

He’s right. Stiles is a goner and they both know it. Derek has somehow managed to weave himself into all parts of Stiles’ life. His friends, his family. He fits in perfectly and it scares Stiles a little bit.

“Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

Scott wasn’t finished yet, though. “It’s also too late for him.”

“And what does that mean, Scotty boy?”

“It means he’s clearly head over heels for you,” he says, in a matter-of-fact tone. “He tripped today during morning practice not once, not twice, but six times trying to steal a glance at your direction. Erica was about to tell you to leave because he couldn’t restrain himself.”

Scott goes back to trying to solve the differential equation in front of him like he didn’t just drop a bomb on Stiles like that. Stiles wants to kill him, but it’ll be hard to find anyone to take his place at this point. He looks over to the kitchen again to check on Derek.

As if on cue, Derek looks back at him and spills his drink a little over his shirt.

Fuck, Stiles is screwed.

* * *

 Stiles hesitates on the front porch. “Um.”

“Are you nervous?” Derek’s hand hovers on the door handle.

“I mean, yeah? Of course I am,” Derek pulls him to the side, away from the door. “What if they don’t like me?” Stiles whispers.

They’re about to have dinner at Derek’s because his mom has been pestering him to bring Stiles over for a proper introduction. Derek figures he’s going to have to sooner or later, so there’s no point of postponing the inevitable.

He reaches for Stiles’ hand, letting his thumb make random patterns on the back of it.

“You worry too much, it’s gonna be okay.”

“Okay,” Stiles echoes. “I just don’t want to screw this up because I really like you.”

Derek processes his words before leaning in and kissing him with incredible speed, Stiles flailing wildly trying to save the bouquet he bought for Derek’s mom from getting crushed in between their bodies.

By the time Derek pulls back, he’s completely out of breath. Stiles’ lips are wet and shiny.

“That’s the first time I’ve ever heard you say that,” Derek says.

Stiles thinks it over. “No way. I’ve said it plenty.”

Derek would have remembered every detail of that conversation if it had happened previously, just like how he’s sure he will remember every detail of this one, down to the faint sounds of crickets coming from his front yard.

“I’m pretty sure that was the first time.”

“I really do like you.”

“Yeah, me too,” Derek says. He means it. “Which is how I know my parents will like you, too.”

And he’s right. His parents love Stiles. Even his dad, who pretty much opposed the fact that Derek’s going out again up to this point. The flowers were a nice touch to win both of his parents over. There’s no quicker way to get an in with Derek’s dad than making his mom happy, they’re sappy like that.

Dinner goes better than expected and when his dad asks him to help check out the engine for the Camaro, Stiles doesn’t seem to mind being left alone with Derek’s mom, even going as far as offering to help her wash the dishes.

Cora squeals excitedly at the offer since that means she can come with Derek and their dad outside for a quick lesson in automobile. She’s more excited about this stuff than Derek is and their dad is more attentive toward a receptive audience, so it’s not hard for Derek to slip back into the house to rescue Stiles from his mom if necessary.

Derek finds them standing side to side facing away from him, his mother washing off the plates and glasses and Stiles drying them.

He stands by the door and listens to their quiet conversation.

“So you’ve thought about college yet, Stiles?”

“Yes, ma’am. I’ve been thinking of UCLA and Stanford, mostly. I don’t plan on going anywhere too far from home since it’s just me and my dad now. Someone’s gotta watch his diet, to be honest. He eats more curly fries than I do.”

That’s probably untrue, Derek decides. Since he knows exactly how much curly fries Stiles consumes on a weekly basis, he also knows it’s unlikely that anyone can match his level. His mom laughs at Stiles’ candour.

“Oh hey, maybe you can help Derek choose his second and third option. We’ve been telling him he needs to have at least one backup school, but he wouldn’t listen. I mean, not that we doubt he can get into Berkeley. We just want him to have options, you see.”

“I mean, Derek’s brilliant,” Stiles gushes. “Berkeley would be lucky to have him.”

There’s a short silence. Then his mom’s reply comes, “I’m glad you agree.”

Derek enters the kitchen and pretends to stumble over the counter to make his presence known. He kisses his mom on the cheek before turning to Stiles.

“Wanna go upstairs and watch a movie?” he offers.

“Depends on the movie,” Stiles says nonchalantly. His uninterested act is spoiled by the grin he has on his face since he sees Derek enters the kitchen anyway.

Derek chooses to play Rogue One and they watch the movie in comfortable silence, Derek’s laptop supported by his left leg and Stiles’ right leg. Stiles rests his head on Derek’s shoulder by the second act and if Derek looks down slightly he can see all the freckles and moles on Stiles’ face.

Derek got lucky this time.

“Hey, can I ask you a question?” Stiles asks, looking up at him.

“Of course.”

“You don’t have to answer, though, if you don’t feel like it,” Stiles tells him.

Derek wonders what question he could possibly have for him that’s so hard he’s giving Derek a free pass before even asking. It better not be about aliens again. Stiles talked his ear off about aliens once and Derek’s had enough of that particular topic.

“Okay.”

His voice is so soft when he talks again, Derek thinks he misheard him. “Who’s Kate?”  
He asks Stiles to repeat. Stiles does.

Derek freezes when he realises he did, in fact, heard him correctly.

“Where did you hear that name?”

“It was one of the things Jackson threw at me during our so-called argument.”

Damn Jackson and his inferiority complex. He didn’t have to go that far. More importantly, the so-called argument happened some time ago and Stiles is only asking him about this now, which means he’s been holding the thoughts to himself. Derek feels like apologising for not telling him sooner.

“She’s my…” he searches for the best word to describe her before finally settling with ‘ex-girlfriend’. It’s not the most accurate description.

Stiles hums. “I take it the relationship did not end well?”

“It didn’t start well, either. I was a freshman and she was one too, in college,” he pauses the movie so that he won’t have to repeat what he’s about to say next. “By the end of it I found out she was just using me to get into the locker room to sell steroids and other drugs to teenage boys.”

Stiles stares at him, jaw dropped and eyes widened in surprise. “Holy shit.”

“You didn’t know?” Derek confirms. His disastrous relationship with Kate wasn’t exactly a secret.

“I knew you dated some older girl but that was about it. None of my friends are really the type to gossip, so I never got to hear this part.”

“It didn't last very long, it was barely a month. Still left me with some things I've had to deal with, though,” he admits. “I understand if you want to leave.”

Stiles tilts his head slightly. “Why would I want to leave?”

“Because of what I just told you.”

“I’m sure people have already told you this, but what she did has nothing to do with you. She was a horrible excuse of a person and that’s the end of that,” he says, reaching over to resume the movie.

“Stiles—“

Stiles cuts him off with a kiss. One to his mouth, then both of his cheeks, then his forehead. Then he fixes the laptop position which slid slightly to Derek’s side when he moved to kiss him and continues watching.

* * *

 After their game against St. Johnson, Derek found himself sitting in the locker room alone, idly taking off his gear. They won against a formidable opponent and played an incredible game, so naturally everyone is still out celebrating on the field and the end-of-game briefing is postponed until the next practice.

Stiles appears from around the corner, which should have scared Derek, but somehow he finds Stiles’ voice soothing instead.

“Great game.”

“Yeah, I know,” Derek smirks and reaches for his stick.

“I’ll help you with that,” Stiles gestures. “You can take off your pads.”

Derek’s impressed, now. He can talk strategies with Stiles a little now, but fixing the mesh is something only a player does, most of the time. “You know how to?”

“I used to help Scott with it.”

“See? Could’ve made a kickass manager,” he points out. “Thank you.”

“Sure thing.”

He takes off his shoulder and elbow pads, throws them in his locker.

“Where are the others?” he asks Stiles, taking off his shoes.

Stiles shrugs. “Jackson said the party’s at his so most of them went with him, I guess. I came to get you.”

“They went without showering? Gross.”

“Jackson has a pool,” he points out.

“Right,” he crunches his nose. He hopes Jackson does weekly draining of his pool or something like that. “Isn’t that more disgusting though?”

Stiles makes a sound in agreement.

“So… why do you do this?”

“No reason, it’s just something I’ve always done,” he takes the shaft from Stiles’ hand. “It’s relaxing, see.”

“Yeah, kinda.”

Derek continues doing his thing, making sure the pocket’s fine and the rest of the stick isn’t dented too badly from use. Stiles watches him, closely. It gets a little bit too intense for Derek after a while.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

“No reason,” Stiles tells him. “It’s relaxing.”

His eyes travel downward as he says it.

“Hey, eyes up here,” Derek scolds him.

Stiles licks his lips, then, “You’re hard.”

Derek’s first instinct was to hit him over the head with his stick, but instead of doing that he only manages to blush like an idiot. Stiles doesn’t laugh it off or look away, which only makes it worse.

“It’s just biological reaction because of the game. I can’t help it.”

“You wanna take care of it?”

He groans. Do they need to have this conversation? It’s embarrassing enough for him that Stiles noticed, he didn’t need to rub salt on the wound. “I will, later. In the shower. Sometimes it goes away on its own.”

“Alone?”

Derek is going to get worked up over this stupid erection if Stiles doesn’t shut up soon.

“What other alternative is there?”

“I can give you a hand,” Stiles proposes. “Literally. Or mouth.”

Derek drops his sticks in surprise. Stiles picks it up and hands it to him, still not laughing. He’s waiting for Derek’s answer.

“Wha— what. Are you fucking serious right now?”

“Did that surprise you?” he asks, not unkindly. Just curious.

“I just wasn’t aware—“ Derek doesn’t know how to phrase it correctly, “you know.”

“I’m a healthy teenage boy. Is that a bad thing?”

Derek bit his lips. “You decide.”

“It’s a good thing, then. Anyways, locker room sex is hot.”

The sound of Derek’s resolve faltering could not be louder. Derek puts his hand over his face, putting some kind of barrier between him and Stiles’ so he wouldn’t jump across the bench and attack his boyfriend right now. “Oh, God. Shut up.”

“You don’t want to?”

He struggles to give an answer. “I didn’t say that.”

“Okay. So, hand or mouth?”

“I’m not going to reciprocate,” he notes.

Stiles looks confused. “What do you mean?”

“If you’re doing this with the thought that I’d return the favour, I’m just telling you that isn’t the case here.”

It’s not that Derek is opposed to the idea, but he doesn’t think his heart can handle it at this moment. He hasn’t prepared for it, either. He doesn’t know how to do it, really, that’s the thing.

“Fine by me. Hand or mouth?”

“You decide,” Derek says again.

“Great. Let’s go, big boy.”

Stiles proceeds to take his shirt off and discards his pants by throwing it at Derek like a madman, before reaching a hand out towards Derek, which he takes tentatively. He strips Derek then, slowly, carefully, making him watch his jersey and underwear drop to the floor one layer at a time. Derek’s skin crawls with anticipation and want.

Stiles leads them to the shower, smiling all the way. Derek finds out he had foreseen this moment or something similar when he reminds Stiles that the door isn’t locked to the locker room and he gets a grin and a small ‘I took care of it’ in return.

Derek turns on the shower and tries not to fall down since his heart is beating so fast that he’s starting to feel dizzy. It only gets worse when Stiles decides to kiss his shoulders before moving further down until he’s kneeling on the floor.

“Turn around,” Stiles whispers.

Derek complies.

Stiles stares at his dick and makes a satisfied sound, and this whole thing is ridiculous but Derek couldn’t even _think_ let alone protest. He leans back against the wall to support himself, his hand flat against it.

Stiles’ hands are on his hip for a moment before they make their way to rest on his ass. Derek shivers at the contact and Stiles seems to notice this because he looks up and gives Derek a devilish grin before turning his attention back to the task at hand.

When Stiles finally takes him into his mouth, Derek throws his head back so fast he gets a whiplash from it. He groans, unsure whether it’s because of the pain or pleasure. Stiles must have decided it’s the latter, because he continues about his business like a professional, unbothered by the inappropriate sounds Derek’s making.

Obviously, Derek doesn’t last very long. All Stiles has to do is flick his tongue over the slit at the right time and Derek loses it immediately. His legs feel weak— and not from all the running during the match.

He pulls Stiles up and Stiles’ eyes are twinkling, happy, his tongue darting out to get the last traces of Derek off of his lips. Derek places his hand on Stiles’ jaw and tilts his face upward, nuzzling him with his nose before planting a soft kiss on Stiles’ lips. He tries to lick his way in, but Stiles pushes at his shoulders. Derek frowns a little, disappointed at the rejection.

“I just had your dick in my mouth,” Stiles states, as if that makes him dirty. It doesn’t. He’s just as desirable as he always is to Derek, if not more.

“I know,” Derek tells him. He leans back in simply because he couldn’t get enough of his boyfriend.

This time, Stiles lets him in. 

* * *

 Derek is just minding his own business, sitting on the bench and watching the freshmen practice passes in pairs when Erica comes and interrupts him.

“What’s wrong with you?” she says, handing him a cold bottle of water.

He takes it without thanking her, because he knows he’s going to have to suffer through an annoyance worth more than just a bottle of water.

“What,” he replies flatly.

Erica tosses her hair back and waves at Boyd, who’s watching her from the other side of the field. He smiles at her and she gives him a thumbs up.

“Boyd just told me to play nice,” she explains. Derek doesn’t want to know how they manage that telepathic communication. “So I was asking, what’s wrong with you?”

Nothing’s wrong with him. In fact, for the first time in a long time, everything feels right. He didn’t go any further than he did in the locker room with Stiles, but cuddling and making out while still in afterglow is the best drug ever. Derek already feels addicted.

Crap, his mind went to Stiles for too long. Erica definitely notices him being lost in his thoughts.

“Nothing,” he barks out. “What are you going on about?”

“I mean, fuck you’re smiling like you’ve been a good kid all year and Santa went down your chimney last night. I mean, I know we won big last week but you didn’t even show up at the after-party. Where did you go, anyway?”

“Nowhere. Home.”

Technically, Derek didn’t lie. After the make-out session in the showers, they got dressed quietly and Derek drove home with one hand on the steering wheel and the other holding Stiles’ hand. He was too tired to do anything besides flop down on the bed, so Stiles followed him willingly and didn’t let go of his hand until Derek fell asleep.

There was a text from Stiles the next morning, telling him he had his dad pick him up and that Derek should rest for the entire day. And if he tried not to get out of his bed as much as he could because it still smelled a lot like Stiles, it’s no one’s business but his.

“No, really. What’s going on?”

He forgets how persistent Erica can be. I mean, she’s the girl who sent Coach Finstock an email every day for three months asking him to buy better quality gears for the team. After the first two weeks, the Coach blocked her email address so Erica made a new one every single day to make sure he got the message. Derek thinks the coach was so close to filing for a restraining order.

“Leave me alone,” he grumbles.

“Is it Stiles? Was he the one who went down your chimney?”

Derek is officially horrified.

“ _Erica._ ”

She giggles. Derek wants to strangle her with his bare hands. “So it is. Did you bone?”

“Bo— bone?” Derek stammers, trying to keep down the flush he feels is coming. “Boundaries! It’s none of your business either way, oh my God.”

“You! You totally did. I’m so happy for you!” Erica claps her hand animatedly. She reminds Derek of a sea lion who wants treats from her trainer. “Was it mind-blowing? Wait, do I want to know? Yeah. Yes. Details! Come on.”

The blonde pushes at him, trying to gauge a reaction. Derek doesn’t want to give it to her but he couldn’t help remembering every single detail of what happened because it was in fact, mind-blowing.

“No,” he aims to make it sound stern, but it comes out weak, probably due to his embarrassment.

Erica boos him disappointedly. “God, you are smitten.”

Thank God Boyd jogs over right after she says that because Derek thinks he agrees with her. 

* * *

The next time Stiles comes over to his boyfriend’s house, he goes straight to Derek’s desk to check out his new sketches. He keeps dropping subtle hints here and there encouraging Derek to apply for an art programme somewhere, though he keeps getting let down gently.

“These newer ones are really good,” he comments.

Derek replies from his spot on the bed. “Eh, I guess you could say I recently found a muse.”

Stiles pays attention to the one on the top of the pile, realising there’s something incredibly familiar about it. “Is this my hand?”

“Yeah,” comes the small confession.

“Wow, I think I like this drawing better than the real thing.”

Stiles brings the paper closer and closer to his face, studying Derek’s shading technique carefully.

He puts the drawing of his hand down and flips through the others, only to realise that they’re all drawings of him. Him dozing off in the library when they were supposed to be studying, his facial features, the outlines of his figure. Derek’s been drawing him.

He can feel Derek watching him, waiting for his reaction. He turns around, the drawings still in his hand. Derek opens his mouth, as if to say something, then closes it.

“Derek?” Stiles prods.

Derek hesitates. He grabs his pillow and buries his face in it, saying something that comes out so quiet Stiles has to ask him to repeat it. Derek looks at him, tired, and Stiles feels this dull ache in his heart. Seeing Derek unhappy makes him unhappy.

“Are you going to break my heart?”

That takes Stiles by surprise. He walks across the room and kneels on the floor in front of Derek, so that their faces are levelled together. He puts his hands on Derek’s knees and presses down just slightly.

“No,” Stiles says softly.

“You know I’ve already had my share of awful relationships to last ten lifetimes.“

Stiles nods in understanding. “I know. I’m not her.”

Derek stays quiet.

“What about you?” Stiles asks. “Are you going to break my heart?”

Judging by the look on his face, Derek didn’t think of a scenario where the opposite happens instead. “I won’t ever intentionally hurt you.”

Stiles leans in slowly to give Derek enough time to turn away if he wants to. Derek doesn’t. Stiles kisses him, chaste, but with all his passion channeled into it.

“Good enough for me,” he hums when they part.

He stands up and goes back to Derek’s desk, turning on his lamp to get a better look at the details presented. It’s unbelievable that some of these were drawn after the fact given how precise they are, because he certainly would remember Derek sketching him while they were playing pool or eating at Misty’s for the hundredth time.

* * *

 Stiles staring intently at his drawings make Derek feels more vulnerable than ever.

“You can keep those,” he says eventually.

“No way, they’re yours. They should be framed by if it was up to me.”

“I want you to have them,” Derek insists.

“Really?”

Stiles has to stop questioning all of Derek’s decision at some point.

“Yes, why would I say it otherwise?”

“Thank you,” Stiles seems excited. “This is great. Now when you’re a world-renowned artist, I have some Hale originals to sell. I bet these would set me up for life.”

Derek rolls his eyes, of course Stiles’s still going on about Derek being an artist. I mean, his parents have seen his work and they praise him all the time, but they’re his parents and they’re supposed to say that no matter how much Derek actually sucks.

Stiles doesn’t have that obligation, yet Derek only perceives him as being genuine every time he delivers his compliments.

“You better be ready to feel disappointed if that’s what you’re setting your expectations to be.”

“I’d never associate ‘disappointed’ with you,” Stiles replies quickly. “The word nor the feeling.”

There are butterflies in Derek’s stomach.

“Do you wanna make out?” he says out loud before he can stop himself.

“I do…” Stiles trails off.

The butterflies disappear. Maybe it was a bit much, before, the question he was asking about getting his heart broken.

“But?”

Stiles grins at him. “Can you just tell me what I said that turned you on just now? For future reference, of course. Scientific purposes only.”

Derek throws a pillow at him, which, due to Stiles’ pathetic coordination, hit him right at the head. He deserves it for sending Derek through an emotional rollercoaster.

“Shut up and get your ass over here,” he orders.

Stiles laughs but complies anyway.

* * *

Derek’s having fun. Like, genuinely, having fun. He’s done with mock exams and he feels pretty positive about his results. It’s a long weekend, thank George W. Bush for the weird holidays in this country, Derek thinks. The gang having a get together which includes barbecued meat and all the people in the world whom he can tolerate besides his family. Well, a notable exception is Cora who made a guest appearance tonight, not leaving Lydia’s side for longer than five minutes and touching her every now and then.

He just watches his little sister fondly for a second before pulling out his phone to text Laura all the details. He can’t wait for the next time she comes home.

Stiles’ laughter somewhere to his left catches his attention and he calls out to him. Stiles practically skips all the way to Derek before he throws himself down on Derek’s lap.

“You’re heavy,” he teases, but locks his arms around Stiles anyway.

“I’m like, 147 pounds. You can probably bench me.”

Derek groans. “Ugh, please. I don’t want to be one of those couples who make workout videos.”

Stiles stifles a laugh and buries his face in the crook of Derek’s neck. Derek decides that he likes that.

“As if I can last long enough seeing you all hot and sweaty without jumping you to make videos,” Stiles says in his ear.

Derek raises his eyebrows. “Pervert.”

“Only for you.”

They stay like that for awhile, just huddled on the couch far from the rest of the group who’s outside, bickering over each other about the best way to cook meat on the grill. Isaac has apparently taken over the job since he’s the one with experience working at a steakhouse.

Erica calls them out and yells at them not to get lost in each other’s eyes, to which Stiles replies instantly that Derek has beautiful eyes and it’s a privilege to get lost in them. It gets quiet for a while before Erica gags and Cora laughs so hard water starts coming out from her nose.

Stiles turns slightly red, but it’s nothing compared to how he looks after Derek slips his tongue into Stiles’ mouth in front of everyone, who cheers and wolf-whistles at them.

Derek thinks he looks tousled but absolutely beautiful.

After everyone’s filled their stomach, the scene dies down a bit. Derek excuses himself to go to the toilet and tries his best not to get lost in the Martins' house because damn, it’s basically a mansion. There’s evidence of Lydia being the pampered only child everywhere. Her pictures, her certificates, her trophies. He doesn’t even know what some of the competitions she’s been in are about.

Stiles would probably know. He’s brilliant.

Sometimes to the point that it intimidates Derek. Stiles and Lydia, when they speak to each other, they have a different frequency, one specifically tuned just to the two of them. He wouldn’t say that he’s jealous, especially seeing just how infatuated Lydia is with Cora, but he just hopes that he’d have that level of connection with Stiles, too, someday.

When he comes back outside, Stiles is nowhere to be seen. So he goes to Scott, who tells him he’s by the pool. The indoor pool. Naturally, that’s where Derek goes.

The door to the pool is slightly ajar and he can see Stiles and Lydia dipping their toes in the water, sitting close to each other. Stiles splashes at her playfully, she pushes him away. Derek decides not to bother them since they look like they’re having fun and starts to turn around.

“Thank you for doing this for me.”

Doing what? The whole barbecue thing what Lydia’s plan. All Stiles did was help finish the sausages. Derek knows he should walk away. He should walk away now.

His legs are as heavy as lead.

“Doing what?” Stiles echoes his thoughts.

For a split second, Derek thinks maybe he doesn’t know what she’s talking about after all. Lydia often talks in codes and perhaps this is just one of—

“Asking Derek out and everything. I mean, I’m happy. Cora and I, we’re happy. It’s amazing how happy we are and we owe it to you, I guess.”

She says it so lightly and so full of happiness. Like it’s not a big deal, that it’s good as long as she and Cora are happy. They owe it to Stiles. What does that mean for Derek?

Derek wants to puke. Please, deny it, he thinks.

And then Stiles ruins his hopes and with it, the rest of him. “Small price to pay for your happiness.”

Derek’s insides twist. He needs to get out of here.

Lydia snickers. “Like you’re not enjoying it.”

He can’t process any more new information. His head is pounding, his hands are trembling. He wants to scream his head off. Wants to scream at Stiles and demand an explanation. At Lydia, for involving him in a scheme he’s never asked to be a part of. At his dad for the ridiculous fucking rule that made all of this happen in the first place. He wants to scream until he passes out.

Then, just when he thinks it can’t possibly get worse, Stiles goes, “Oh, I never said that.”

Derek’s eyes burns. He walks away, quickly, not wanting to hear anything more from their conversation.

* * *

Derek finds Cora sitting next to Isaac and grabs her by the arm. “We’re leaving,” he says.

He’s surprised he can even get those two words out without falling apart. He expects Cora to fight him, but he must have one hell of an awful expression on his face because Cora doesn’t question him at all. She simply gets up and packs her things.

Isaac tries to ask him what’s wrong, but Derek doesn’t have it in him to answer. He just needs to get away from here. Ironically, away from the person five minutes ago he didn’t want to be apart from.

_Stiles._

Stiles, who’s catching up to him as he drags Cora to his car. Stiles, who chases after him without his shoes on, the bottom of his jeans still wet from dipping in the pool.

“Babe, where are you going?” he calls out. Derek doesn’t stop. “Derek? Derek! Hey! I know you can hear me.”

Derek halts. “Get inside the car,” he tells Cora.

Then he turns to Stiles. “What.”

He can see Stiles’ hurt in his eyes, he wasn’t expecting Derek to lash out at him. But that’s acting, isn’t it? He has to hand it to Stiles, he’s been pretty convincing all along. Derek fell for every single act he’s ever put on like an idiot.

“You’re leaving? Why?”

Stiles reaches out a hand to him and Derek slaps it away. “You’re an asshole, Stilinski.”

This time he actually has the decency to step back and give Derek extra space, which is probably good because all Derek wants to do is bruise his fair skin. Even with his best swing, he suspects it would hurt a whole lot less than how he’s feeling right now.

“Whoa, we’re back to last-name basis now? What did I do?”

Derek scoffs derisively. Scott appears behind Stiles, apple juice in his hand and Isaac hiding behind his shoulders even though he’s six inches taller than Scott. The whole scene is just ridiculous and Derek wishes he’ll wake up from this nightmare anytime now, but it doesn’t work. _It doesn’t work_.

Then Lydia walks out the door and Derek just… burst.

“Oh, yeah, just continue pretending like you didn’t date me just so your friend could ask my sister out. Your sense of loyalty is very admirable. _To her_ ,” he points his finger at Lydia.

Lydia’s eyes go wide and that’s all the confirmation Derek needs.

“Oh my God,” Cora gasps beside him, apparently having ignored his order to get in the car. He turns to look at her and she shakes her head, staring wildly at Stiles. Good. She didn’t know. Derek wouldn’t know how to look her in the eyes ever again if she had any part in it.

Scott gapes. Isaac completely disappears back into the house, not that Derek can blame him for wanting to bolt out of there. Derek can see Erica’s head popping out in Isaac’s place, asking what the hell’s going on.

Stiles hasn’t said anything. He stares at Derek, hard. His mouth is moving, though no words seem to be coming out.

“Not so verbose now that I’ve caught you in your lies, huh? Who the fuck do you think you are, toying with other people’s feelings like that?”

It’s lucky for him that Lydia’s place is quite far down the road from her closest neighbour, because at least he doesn’t have to worry about a noise complaint filed against him for screaming his head off at Stiles.

“I’m not— It’s not what you think.”

He’s tired. He doesn’t want to have this conversation anymore. It hurts even to look at Stiles. His eyes glazes over to Lydia who is still petrified to her spot by the door.

“Whatever, I’m done.”

“Derek—” Stiles starts again.

“I asked you!” Derek spats, then he lowers his voice so the others won’t be able to hear them. “I asked you straight to your face whether you’re going to break my heart, and you said no. I guess the joke’s on me for actually believing that shit, huh? I’m done, Stiles, just leave me alone.”

He walks away and Stiles doesn’t call him out again.

Cora gets in the passenger seat, immediately starts telling him she’s sorry over and over again, until she’s crying, bawling her eyes out for real and Derek hasn’t seen her cry in give or take ten years, so he tells her it’s alright even though it’s not, holds her hand all the way to the house and tucks her in bed.

Then he goes to his own room and cries himself to oblivion.

* * *

There’s knocking on Derek’s door and he makes the mistake of thinking that it’s Cora coming in to check on him for the fifteenth time, so he tells the person to come in.

“I tried calling you,” Stiles says softly from the door.

Derek sits up on the bed and tries to vaporise Stiles by glaring at him. He realises he looks awful, his eyes are probably as puffy as they feel and his face is bloated. Stiles doesn’t look like he’s better off.

It should make Derek feel better about himself, but the bags under Stiles' eyes are the size of California state and it only makes him feel worse. Which is unfair. Why does he get to feel all these feelings?

“Blocked your number.”

He did. At 1 AM, after crying so much he couldn’t even see properly. At least then he still had his sanity intact because he ignored the initial desire to smash his phones against the wall when he saw Stiles’ name on the caller ID.

Stiles doesn’t move from his spot.

“Figured as much.”

Derek covers his face with his hand, too tired to even get worked up. “How did you even get in here? My sister?”

“Your mom, actually,” Stiles admits.

Right. His mom must have thought it’s one of those regular visits from her son’s supposed boyfriend. He doesn’t even want to think about explaining their breaking up to her. He already knows what she’s going to do and say. She’ll make tea, tell him to start from the beginning and Derek will break down and he’ll need to be consoled like a child. The fact that she gets along with Stiles makes the prospect even worse.

“If you’re here to get your sweater, it’s on top of the drawer,” Derek points with his finger.

“You really think I’m here to get my sweater?”

Stiles runs his hand through his hair. Derek can’t tell if he’s nervous, since he ditched his fidgeting habit a while ago. He wonders if that was a part of his act, too.

“I’ve learned not to make assumptions when it comes to you because apparently, I know absolutely nothing.”

It came out more venomous than Derek intended.

“I’m sorry,” Stiles breathes out.

Derek laughs. Stiles watches him, both of them completely aware that it was the emptiest laugh either of them ever heard coming from the other. Stiles’ eyes start to get teary. Derek looks away from him. He can’t see Stiles crying or he’ll be forgiving him for everything just because he said he’s sorry once.

“Are you really? Or are you just sorry I found out?”

A beat passes. “I’m sorry that you found out _this way_.”

“Save your apologies. Lydia’s sent me five paragraphs of hers.”

Derek blocked her number, too. It’s unfortunate that he didn’t think about blocking her email address. The notification wasn’t the best thing to wake up to. Derek hasn’t read her writing. He skimmed it with his finger hovering over the delete button, but couldn’t bring himself to actually erase it.

“I didn’t date you because of her.”

God, the thing Derek hates most about this whole thing is how it makes sense. How it has always made sense. He’s just too blinded by Stiles’ easy smiles and witty repartees to see what’s unfolding right in front of him. This hurt much more than it did with Kate and he knows exactly why.

It doesn’t matter anymore. Love is a lie.

Derek scoffs. “Didn’t sound like that to me last night.”

“Okay, she asked to ask you out and I did, even when I knew I’d probably end up getting rejected, but I only agreed because I’ve had a crush on you for the longest and I do mean the longest time. Whatever happened between us consequentially is all my doing. My choices. I don’t know what you heard—”

He can’t listen to this.

“How much did she pay you?”

It just came out. Derek knows how horrible it sounds the moment the words escape him.

Stiles loses his footing at the question. He stares at Derek, hard, not believing what he’s just heard come out from Derek’s mouth.

“What?”

“How much?”

“She _didn’t_ ,” Stiles emphasises, looking horrified, “ _pay me_.”

“It must be quite a lot of money for you to agree to take me out. Bought the mushroom soup with it, didn’t you?”

Derek’s so angry, his vision blurs. He doesn’t know why Stiles’ still there, standing by the door like an idiot. He should have left by now, what Derek said was more than enough to offend him.

“I get it,” Stiles says, calmly. Derek looks up at that. “I understand. You’re hurt and you’re lashing out.”

“Get out.”

His voice gets even softer. “But even if you are, we both know that isn’t true. No one _paid_ me to do anything.”

“Great, so you played me _for free_. Happy?” Derek spats out bitterly in reply.

“I didn’t—“

“You used me,” Derek’s voice breaks. His mouth tastes foul as he says it.

Stiles doesn’t back down this time, the element of surprise Derek has over him last night already gone.

“No, I didn’t. Can you look me in the eyes and honestly say that you think I wasn’t being genuine the whole time we’ve been together?”

He can’t. He can’t look Stiles in the eyes right now, much less tell him anything.

“Get out of my room,” he orders.

Stiles won’t budge. Instead of leaving, he starts talking, again. Derek forgets how stubborn he can get. “When I was a freshman, some asshole bumped me into the lockers and broke my glasses. You saw what happened, called him out and offered to help me locate my spare ones. I liked you since then, before I even know your name.”

He vaguely remembers— _no_. He can’t be considering anything Stiles says right now.

“Nice story, now get the hell out,” he tells Stiles again. “I’m serious.”

“Okay,” he says, dejected. Derek throws himself back on the bed, but he can sense Stiles hovering at the doorway. “Just… just know that I didn’t spend one second pretending with you.”

Derek hears him reach for his sweater before he leaves.

He sighs, then screams into his pillow and cries some more. 

* * *

Derek’s pretty much recovered physically by Monday. Cora helped him avoid their parents for the rest of the weekend and she came into his room last night bearing gifts. By gifts, Derek means a whole bunch of eye masks for his puffy eyes. They wore them and sat in comfortable silence together.

He goes to class and minds his own business, ignoring Boyd’s attempts to talk to him because he knows Erica just sent him to do her bidding. He doesn’t see any traces of Stiles, which is great. It’s the first lunch Derek’ll be having without him in a couple months. Not that he feels like eating.

He’s debating whether to eat the last piece of carrot for sustenance purposes when someone drops their tray next to him.

“Hey, this seat taken?”

Derek looks up and sees Scott giving him a small smile. He’s lost it, Derek thinks. There’s no other explanation. Derek had just publicly broken up with his friend, his best friend, and Scott’s asking if he can sit next to him instead of at his own table, with his actual friends, who are currently stealing glances at Derek. Not discreetly, he might add.

“Uh, no.”

“Mind if I sit here?”

“No, go ahead,” he gestures, straightening his back.

Scott sits down and starts eating like nothing had happened. Even if Stiles decided not to come to school, it doesn’t give Scott any reasons whatsoever to sit with Derek. If Scott’s doing this out of pity, then fuck that. Derek doesn’t need it.

He keeps glaring at Scott, probably harder than the guy deserves, until Scott can’t take it anymore.

“Dude, why are you looking at me like that?”

“Stiles and I broke up,” Derek tells him flatly.

Scott stares at him, dumbfounded.

“Derek, I know,” he sighs. “I was there. Stiles… he can be a dumbass sometimes, but you see, he didn’t pretend or anything like that. I could tell.”

Derek shakes his head. He definitely does _not_ need this talk.

“I can’t trust him anymore.”

“That’s up to you and him to work out,” Scott shrugs.

The indifference in his tone surprises Derek. “I thought you came here to talk me out of it.”

“Wanted to have lunch with my friend, so I did.” Scott must have seen the caught off-guard expression on Derek’s face because he continues without letting Derek reply. “You do know we’re friends, right? You went passed being Stiles’ plus one a long time ago. Just because you broke up doesn’t mean we don’t get to talk to each other ever again.”

“I… yes?”

“Good,” he bumps his fist on Derek’s shoulder, a friendly gesture coming from, apparently, a friend. Derek’s still trying to understand him when he adds, “Now are you going to eat your carrot? Allison says I need to lay off the junk food and eat more healthy stuff.”

“You can have it.”

Scott grins. “Cool.”

* * *

Like a coward, Stiles told his dad he has a stomachache from undercooked meat Isaac made and skipped school on Monday. His dad didn’t look like he believed him one bit since working with liars and criminals is literally his profession, but didn’t push the issue further. He even made hot chocolate for him.

Stiles slept pretty much the entire day since he felt extremely lethargic. Scott texted him by the second period to check up on him and Erica called him a couple times. Stiles replied to the messages and let the calls go to voicemail.

“Hey bud, there’s a visitor for you downstairs,” his dad’s head appears from the slight opening of his bedroom door.

He glances at the clock. It’s only two o’clock. “Scott said he’ll be another hour. Who is it?”

“A girl. She kind of looks like Derek.”

Hearing his name feels like a slap to the face. Stiles pushes the pain away before getting up from the bed. The last thing he wants to do right now is to make his dad worry over a broken heart.

“Oh, yeah. I’ll come down.”

He sees Cora standing in the entranceway, looking effortlessly casual. She looks the way she always does, with her head held high and her hair tucked into a messy ponytail. She notices Stiles making his way down the stairs, but doesn’t say anything.  
Stiles wonders if he’s about to get berated or murdered. Or worse.

“Hi.”

“Hey,” Cora replies, “you look like shit.”

Berated it is, apparently. Stiles doesn’t need her to tell him that. He’s fully aware of the fact, since he’s been wearing the same shirt and sweatpants since Saturday.

“Thanks.”

She rolls her eyes. “He doesn’t look much better, in case you’re wondering.”

Stiles was indeed wondering how Derek’s doing, but he was also hoping for better news than the one Cora just gave up.

“I’m— yeah.”

She shoves a paper bag at him. “Here, chicken wings from that Chinese place you like.”

He looks down at the bag and back at Cora. Stiles thinks back to the time he told her about it but he comes up empty. Cora doesn’t know about this comfort food, only Scott and Lydia do. Stiles connects the dot and concludes that at least Cora and Lydia are in a much better place than him and Derek.

If there’s even a him and Derek anymore.

“Lydia?” Cora nods. “I’m glad you guys are alright.”

She pinches her nose and looks away, her hands balled up into fists.

“We’re definitely  _not_ alright. I’m angry. I’m fucking livid, actually. What she asked, that wasn’t fair to Derek or to you. We’re working on it. I know she didn’t mean to hurt him. Neither did you. It’s just— you guys are _so smart_. If she had just gone to Derek, he would’ve lied for me. I know that for a fact. He would’ve even pretended to date you in front of my parents to sell the lie. I think if that was the case, you’ll fall in love anyway and we’ll be all good today. Talking about a cliché trope.”

That’s the longest Stiles has ever heard her talk, since both Derek and Cora aren’t big fans of using their words. He just stares at her, unsure if she’s finished or what. The last thing he would want to do is interrupt. It’s probably good for the two of them if Cora lets out her frustration.

She sighs and grabs Stiles’ arm, not harshly. It feels more like she’s leaning into him for support. Stiles steadies himself.

“He’s… the best. You know?”

Cora looks up at him, her eyes bright.

“I know.”

Her expression softens when he says that, as if she can tell how much he means it. She pats her arm and leans back.

“Give him time.”

“He hates me,” Stiles tells her honestly.

She clucks her tongue in disagreement.

“Right now he thinks that the one person he’s opened up to in a long time betrayed him. Not to mention the fact that he loves you. It’s like a punch to the gut and a kick to the balls at the same time.”

Stiles stares at her and her features, which upon closer examination is very much alike to Derek’s. He misses Derek and his heart is aching to be with him. He has to remind himself that there’s nothing much he could do since Derek made it crystal clear how he felt. He doesn’t want anything to do with Stiles.

“You have weird analogies,” Stiles sighs.

Cora laughs for the first time since she’s arrived and Stiles feels himself relaxing along with her.

“Shut up. You know what I mean.”

He nods. “Yeah.”

“Can I have some of those wings,” she points to the bag in Stiles’ hand, “or are you going to stress-eat them all?”

Good, it gives Stiles some degree of relief to know that Cora’s comfortable enough to make jokes, her playfulness returning to the surface.

“You can have some,” he makes his way to the kitchen, “if you’re quick enough.” 

* * *

Derek gets home from practice and finds his mom waiting for him in the living room, apparently having come off work earlier than usual. She’s watching Queer Eye and eating potato chips like a teenager, but Derek can’t blame her since the show is gold and she’s literally living the dream life.

“Hi, Mom,” he greets her, hanging his keys next to the door.

His mom looks at him from the couch. “Hi, sweetie.”

It’s been years since he’s been called that. His parents believed in making sure their children are as comfortable as possible right before making them uncomfortable when they were growing up, calling them pet names before scolding and giving them cakes before bringing up the bird and bees conversation. Derek has all the right to be suspicious when his mother calls him sweetie.

“ _Sweetie_? Am I in trouble?”

She lifts up a white envelope. “Your letter from UCLA came in today.”

“I didn’t apply to UCLA.”

Derek didn’t.

“Someone with the name of Derek Hale residing in this address did,” she hands him the letter.

He reads the address and the name on the cover and it’s not a typo, it is indeed a letter from the UCLA admission board for him. He flips the letter over and notices the tear.

Derek looks at his mother. “Wait, did you open it?”

It shouldn’t matter what’s inside because he didn’t apply in the first place anyway, but it would be a bigger embarrassment to get rejected if his mom finds out about it before he does.

“I did,” Cora appears, coming from the kitchen.

Derek glares at her. She doesn’t seem to mind. “That’s invasion of privacy.”

The argument is weak considering they’ve taken baths together when they were little. Derek has no privacy from her or Laura, truth be told.

“Tough luck, bro, you got offered 50% remission by the way. Fine Arts program sounds faaaancy.”

Now, Derek definitely _didn’t_ apply to the Fine Arts program.

“What.”

“Yeah, it’s in the letter,” she gestures. “Whatever Stiles sent in must have worked.”

Cora has been avoiding mentioning Stiles’ name for awhile per Derek’s request, so he wonders why she’s bringing him up so lightly now.

Then he realises, their mother’s in the room. He reaches out to swat Cora’s arm but she successfully dodges his hit. He’ll get her next time.

“Stiles applied to UCLA for you?” his mom asks. Derek doesn’t know how to answer that, he didn’t have any clue this was happening. “Why don’t we invite him to dinner tonight?”

Cora stares at him. “That’s a great idea. What do you think, Derek?”

Derek really, really wants to strangle her.

“We— Stiles and I,” he takes a deep breath, “we’re not together anymore.”

“Oh?” his mother turns to Cora. “Did you know about this?”

“I’m opposed to it,” Cora answers, looking pointedly at Derek. She escapes the room with the bowl of chips in hand before Derek can launch another attack on her.

“Makes two of us,” his mom comments after she’s gone.

Derek covers his face with his hand. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Is it because you’re going away for college?”

Derek thinks it’s better to lie than explain the complicated situation he himself hasn’t fully grasp, so he does exactly that. He knows it’s been weeks, five of them to be exact, but he continues to push away the thoughts of Stiles to the back of his mind. Whoever said that anything gets easier with time is a big fat liar.

“Yes.”

“Okay,” she says it in a way that makes it clear that it’s actually not okay to her. “I think that you can work it out if you really care about each other.”

“Thanks, Mom.”

“Derek.”

“Yeah?”

“I’m serious.”

Derek knows. “Yes, I know.”

“No, I really am. I have never seen you smile as much as you do around him after the whole thing with that heinous bitch.”

The upside to having cool parents: you can live life on the edge. The downside: they can too. Another downside: sometimes they swear in front of you.

“Don’t swear,” Derek reminds her.

“What? Am I not allowed to curse in front of my kids whom I raised not to because it would make me a hypocrite?”

He doesn’t reply, the questions are pretty rhetorical from where he’s standing.

“I just… I felt like I failed at being a parent because I’m supposed to shield you from things like that, but with Stiles in your life, it seemed to me like you’re letting go of that weight. And if I couldn’t give you that happiness, I’m glad that someone else could. Do you understand me?”

God, he hates this. He hates having this conversation because he knows how she feels without her having to tell him, but listening to her makes it harder not to get angry at Kate. She didn’t just hurt him, she hurt the people who matter to him most. And his mom’s right, with Stiles it was easier. Derek didn’t think about her much. Derek didn’t think about her at all, if he’s being honest.

Stiles made him believe again.

Stiles sent an application in for him.

Stiles believed in him, too.

There’s somewhere else Derek needs to be right now.

Derek nods. “You didn’t fail,” he tells her the truth and hopes it comforts her. “And yeah, I understand.”

“I love you, Derek.”

“Me too.”

“Do you want me to tell your father to forget about Berkeley?” she points at the letter in his hand.

Derek shakes his head. “No, I’ll tell him. I don’t even know if I want to go to UCLA.”

“Okay. Whatever you decide, just know that we’d still be proud parents.”

He puts the letter back in his bag carefully and kisses his mom.

“Um, I gotta go out for awhile,” he tells her.

Somehow, he can tell that she knows exactly where he’s heading.

If she does, she doesn’t let him in on it. She just smiles and tells him, “Sure, let me know if you’ll be back for dinner or not.”

Derek grabs his keys and runs all the way to his car. It’s truly a miracle he didn’t take off his mailbox when he reversed out of his driveway so fast. 

* * *

“Derek,” Stiles definitely was not expecting him to show up at his house after actively avoiding him at school and everywhere else.

Derek has to do what he came here for before he loses his courage.

“Can I come in?”

“Uh, er, yeah, sure,” Stiles stammers. “What’s up?”

Derek hands him the letter. Stiles stares at it, then at him. Derek gestures for him to open it. He does, carefully, and realises its content as soon as he sees the letterhead.

“Oh, shit… I’m an asshole. I stepped over a line and then I completely forgot about it.”

He has to hold back a laugh at the horrified expression on Stiles’ face. It’s completely in character for Stiles to do something that deranges another person’s life and throws them off the path they’ve planned for themselves only to be unaware of it. Or in this case, forgetful. He did it when he made Derek love him, too.

“You did step over a line,” Derek tells him, because he did. There’s no question about it.

Stiles’ shoulders slump, he puts in hands in his pockets. “Yeah, but you already hate me so there’s no downside to it anyway.”

“Aren’t you going to ask if I got in?”

“I already knew you’d get in,” Stiles shrugs.

If he didn’t know about the letter, it means Cora hasn’t texted him anything. Yet, if Derek knows anything about his sister.

“How?”

“You clearly underestimate your talent.”

Derek stares at him. “I— I don’t think you would’ve done this if you were just playing me. There’s no benefit for you.”

“I told you—“ Stiles begins.

“You weren’t. Yeah, but you see how that’s hard to believe for me?”

“I do.”

Derek nods. “Okay.”

“Yeah.”

Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea after all. Derek didn’t think it through properly before ringing the doorbell and he’s going to live to regret this. Like any normal human being would in his position, he chickens out.

“I’m just here for that, actually, so I’ll leave now,” he turns around, ready to leave.

Apparently, Stiles has other ideas in mind. “You always give up this easy?” his eyes are narrowed at Derek.

Derek manages to hold back a smirk remembering that those are his words to Stiles when he first tried to ask Derek out but almost gave up before even asking the question.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he counters.

Stiles crosses his arms, taking a step forward. “It’s pretty obvious if you didn’t have anything important to say you would’ve texted me instead of driving all the way here. So you wanna tell me what you came here to tell me?”

“Thank you for sending an application to UCLA for me.”

Oh, God. This is going to be more pathetic than Derek anticipated. Did he really just say that?

“Not that.”

Derek throws his hand up in the air. “Then I don’t know what.”

Stiles makes a frustrated noise.

“Fine, I’ll say it for you,” he declares, so Derek prepares himself for whatever’s coming. “I miss you, Derek. This past month has been hell for me because I know we’re not apart for reasons that we can’t work out together. I—“ he pauses to take a deep breath, and then, “I love you.”

Derek just stares at him. He never thought he’d heard Stiles say that.

“And you know what? I want to fight for that. For us. You’re worth it.”

In contrast to how he was when he came to Derek the day after the barbecue, Stiles’ eyes aren’t teary. They’re bright, challenging Derek to back down if he wants to because Stiles is certainly not going to. He’s determined. He knows what he wants.

“If you don’t think I am, then—“

Derek thinks he is, so he cuts him off by pressing their lips together, Stiles sighing in response. When he put his arms around Stiles, he can feel him melting in his embrace. They stumble backward until Stiles’ legs hit the couch.

“Holy shit, my legs are weak right now,” Stiles claims when they part.

Derek knows exactly how he feels. “Mine too.”

“No, they’re absolutely not,” Stiles groans. “Yours are like, strong and muscled and currently located between mine. Der—”

He hugs Stiles, who immediately stops talking at how much power Derek’s putting into the act. “I’m really angry.”

He is, maybe not as much as he was in the beginning, but he still is. To say otherwise, to say that he’s forgiven Stiles or even come close to understanding what exactly unfolded between them, wouldn’t be true. Derek doesn’t want to start over with a lie.

Stiles runs his hand up and down his back soothingly. “Yeah.”

“I’m really hurt, too,” he admits.

Stiles leans his forehead on Derek’s shoulder, buries his face there.

“Yeah.”

“But you’re sorry.”

“I am,” he confirms.

Derek tightens his hold. “I don’t have to forgive you.”

“You don’t.”

He doesn’t add, ‘not right now’, at the end of it and Derek knows he’s ready to let him go if in the end Derek couldn’t forgive him, as long as it means Derek would be happier. He’s not going to force Derek into doing something he doesn’t want to.

“Is there any other secrets you need to tell me?”

“Not that I can think of,” Stiles tells him.

Derek just needs to confirm one last thing. “And you love me?”

“I do.”

“Say it again,” he requests.

He can feel Stiles’ mouth forming a smile against his body. “I love you, Derek.”

“Okay.”

Stiles pulls away so that he can look Derek in the eyes. “Okay?”

“You’ll have to make it up to me,” he adds.

“I will,” Stiles nods, his hand grabbing the back of Derek’s shirt until Derek can feel them all crumpled. “Fuck, I will.”

“Where’s your dad?”

Stiles raises his eyebrows because they were having a conversation about something very important and Derek’s suddenly asking about his dad. “At the station,” he replies.

Derek smiles. “Upstairs?”

Stiles returns the smile, he understands the question now.

“If you want,” he tells him.

“I’ll race you.”

Derek doesn’t even finish his sentence before he starts running, Stiles following closely behind him.

When he bursts into Stiles’ room, the first thing he sees is his drawing. His drawing of Stiles driving in his Jeep which he made directly from memory of their first date. It’s framed, hanging by a nail on the wall right next to Stiles’ desk.

“I… yeah,” Stiles breathes behind him when he figures out what Derek saw. “That’s the only one I kept since I sent the rest to the admission board, so.”

Derek tackles him into the bed.

* * *

 

**EPILOGUE**

“That was the last box, right?” Stiles says, throwing himself on Derek’s bed. Well, technically, mattress. He hasn’t even opened the package containing the bed frame, much less set it up.

Stiles offered to help him move into his new place near campus, something Derek thinks he’s already regretting by the second haul of boxes up the stairs after he finds out Derek’s building doesn’t have an elevator.

To be fair, Derek only lives on the second floor. It’s not like he’s torturing Stiles or anything.

“I think so, yeah. Tired?”

Stiles sighs dramatically. “Exhausted.”

“Thanks for helping me today,” Derek says, sitting down on the mattress next to him.

Stiles props himself up on his elbow, reaching up to poke Derek’s cheeks. “Anything for my booboo Derbear.”

“Blergh, stop that,” he pushes him away. “And stop talking to Laura all the time.”

Derek still has to take revenge on his sister for telling Stiles all the ridiculous nicknames he had from when he was little. It’s not like Derek had the intellectual capacity to consciously object to Derbear when he’s five, yet he’s still paying the price years down the road.

“I’m jealous you get to have your own place in your first year. You don’t have to worry about roommates and communal shower,” he shivers.

Derek’s parents had insisted on this particular option for his accommodation, saying they have more than enough money to do this for him since he’s on a scholarship. He didn’t exactly put up a fight since living alone is way much more preferable than sharing a small, cramped space with a stranger.

“On the bright side, you can visit me whenever you like and not have anyone bother us.” Stiles mumbles something incoherent in reply. “What was that?”

“I said I miss you already.”

Derek nuzzles Stiles with his nose.

“C’mon,” he tries to cheer him up. “It’s only an hour away. I can drive home anytime.”

“Still sucks,” Stiles groans. “At least I only have to bear with it for a year.”

They have been talking about options for Stiles’ college and UCLA is definitely high on the list, but he wasn’t aware that Stiles has made up his mind about which one. Considering his grades, it’s really going to be up to Stiles to choose.

“So you decided?”

“I’m leaning heavily towards it,” Stiles affirms.

“That’s great. Why?”

He doesn’t skip a beat before answering, “You’re here.”

As happy as that declaration makes Derek feels, he has to be the objective voice since Stiles’ is clearly not so objective anymore.

He flicks Stiles’ forehead, causing his boyfriend to yelp. “You can’t decide which college to go to just because I’m there.”

“Uh, watch me?” Stiles challenges even as he’s still rubbing at his forehead. “I don’t want to you bringing models back here and asking them to pose nude and stuff without me knowing.”

He rolls his eyes because now that’s just borderline irrational and a very Stiles thing to choose to focus on and worry about.

“As if.”

Stiles sighs. “It’s gonna be horrible being roommates with someone who isn’t Scott.”

“Oh, yeah, he told me about UC Davis. A vet, huh? To be honest, I think it suits him.”

Scott, much to Derek’s annoyance, wasn’t surprised at all when Derek got back together with Stiles, smugly telling him he knew all along that eventually, they’re going to find their way back to each other. He proceeded to tell him that even if they didn’t get back together, he still meant what he said about being friends.

Derek couldn’t be held responsible if he recommended Scott’s name as his successor to Coach Finstock at the end of the year.

“He’s gonna get in, I know it. I’ll be stuck with Jared or John or some other loser with a generic name,” Stiles whines.

“You can just get your own place,” Derek offers.

Stiles scoffs at his suggestion, like he’s not helping him at all. Derek just smiles to himself because clearly, Stiles doesn’t understand what he’s insinuating yet.

“With what money? I’m planning to work part-time anyway but it’s not going to be enough to cover rent.”

Derek goes for it again, a little bit clearer this time. Or at least, he hopes so.

“Pay half the rent, then.”

“I can’t pay half—“ Stiles stops. “What?”

“What?” Derek parrots.

“Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

Derek decides to tease him a little because he just looks adorable looking all confused and flustered. That, and Derek is actually an asshole deep down.

“What do you think I’m saying?”

“I’m serious,” Stiles places a hand on his chest. “Don’t play with me like this.”

Derek gives in. “Me too. I’m serious, too.”

“Really?”

“Yes,” he confirms.

“You’re gonna get so fucking annoyed by me though.”

He knows. Weirdly he can’t wait to fight over whose turn it is to wash the dishes, or do laundry, or better yet, do laundry in the middle of the night because they’re out of sheets and managed to dirty their last one having a quickie and Stiles gets itchy all over if he sleeps on the bed without any sheets on.

“Looking forward to it.”

“God, really?”

Derek ruffles his hair, which has grown longer now. Not that Derek doesn’t like it, he definitely likes having something to hold on to when they’re going at it.

“How many times are you going to ask me that? I want to room with you.”

Stiles considers it. “I think you just want someone to cook for you, Derbear.”

He’s not wrong. His mother insists on teaching Stiles how to cook healthy meals from the Hale family recipe book to make sure he’s providing enough sustenance for himself and the Sheriff, who, by the way, now goes fishing with Derek’s dad every other week. They’re like best friends and it’s honestly a nightmare come true.

“Damn, you guessed it. My mom taught you well, you know. Your casserole last week tasted exactly like hers,” Derek kisses the top of Stiles’ head, then lays back on the bed. “I love you.”

He can hear Stiles rustles beside him, scrambling to get to a sitting position.

“Huh?”

Derek closes his eyes. “I’m not going to repeat it.”

“That’s unfair! You caught me off guard!” he protests.

He opens his eyes and laughs at Stiles’ sulking expression. “Come here,” he tells him.

Stiles shakes his head vehemently.

“Come here and I’ll tell you again.”

The brown eyes go wide and the next thing Derek knows Stiles is on top on him, caging Derek with his body. Derek reaches up to stroke his cheek, Stiles leaning into the touch unconsciously. He pushes himself up on his elbows and brings his mouth to Stiles’ ear.

Stiles hugs him so hard upon hearing his words that Derek’s sure he cracks a rib or two in the process.

He doesn’t mind it. He doesn’t mind it at all.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you guys enjoyed it! Comments are highly appreciated. :)


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